Delicate
by Distant Voice
Summary: [New Era] When what had started for her as an unsuspecting friendship quickly turned into a secret scandalous affair with the last person she had in mind, Sakura finally realized that her marriage to Sasuke had already gone to Hell even before her morals did. GaaSaku.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto/Boruto (obviously).

A/N at the end.

 **Prologue**

* * *

She was vulnerable, but she hadn't acknowledged it… partly because she didn't want to and was afraid. She thought if she admitted it, then it would become a truth that she didn't have the strength to embrace. Her fear was illogical though. When she finally regretted not taking the necessary measures, it was already too late.

He had run into her by coincidence… or perhaps by fate? She would wistfully think that to herself, so there would be a purpose in what they did, a justification for their ultimate downfall: Maybe it was simply meant to be.

Their chanced encounters morphed into occasional rendezvous. Before she knew it, a routine was established. Surprisingly, her daughter seemed to have taken a liking toward him as well. So she figured there was no harm.

But then the emotional and physical needs inevitably came.

He was the least likely person that she ever thought to run to for solace, but at least he was _there_.

It had started with innocent acts. She would pinch the corner of his sleeve and hesitantly rest her forehead against his shoulder blade. He would stiffen but not enough for her to notice.

"Is this okay?" She would ask for permission, her tone sounding strained and abashed.

"It is." He nodded mechanically, his wary expression hidden from her. Why wouldn't it be? She was clearly miserable. It was within acceptable confine to provide support as a friend… if one could even call it that.

So they would stay like that for a minute, two minutes, five minutes… it didn't matter.

Because it was fine.

Because they did it as friends, who—as he was taught—offer companionship and comfort to each other during times of distress. He had convinced himself too.

Even so, that boundary seemed to blur quickly.

Then the needs became urgent and insatiable by the simple things.

Then came the scandal.

He was single; she was not. Somehow, he seemed to be more experienced than she—a married woman—was, in the art of intimacy.

There was guilt, shame, and self-disgust, naturally. But they would be temporarily forgotten as long as they were together. Their bodies moving together rhythmically was enough to banish all these nauseating thoughts into oblivion.

It was only after the acts that these sickening feelings would resurface, seemingly more on her part than his. It had become a cycle, and it was really not healthy, she figured.

Even so, both grew numb eventually.

And then came the consequences, among them was the first time that one of her best friends lost his temper, at her:

 _"Whatever is going on between you and Gaara, it needs to stop."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"Sakura, I can only manage the rumors in the office corridors for so long."_

 _"This is none of your business, Naruto."_

 _"Damn right it's my business when it's about my best friends!"_

She grimaced at the recollection.

This…

Was bound to be a disaster.

Suppressing the dreadful premonition, she forced her mind to the present. They were now lying in his bed panting faintly and staring at the dark ceiling. She turned to her side. Facing him, she studied his profile in earnest. She reached out to push away some red strands that stuck to his sweaty forehead, making his signature tattoo visible. She stared at the kanji character with interest.

"Why are you not married yet?" she asked.

"I'm not in a rush," he answered her, eyes unmoving from the upward direction.

Brushing against his tattoo with her slim fingers, she whispered, "Love… Have you found it yet?"

"No."

At his terse answer, she returned to her back and sighed. "I suppose me either."

"Is that so?" He propped himself up on one elbow. It was his turn to study her.

"I thought I had found it. Then I thought I lost it. But now… I think maybe it was never there to begin with." Bitterness was evident in her voice.

"That's tragic," he commented.

She gave him a wry smile. "I know, right? I hope you don't end up like me."

"I…"

He was now gazing directly into her curious eyes. Intense turquoise met brilliant emerald.

"—certainly hope not." Dipping his head down, he kissed her.

* * *

A/N: This drabble came to me on the spur of the moment. I was _almost_ going to make it a (more expansive) stand-alone, but my plot bunnies were quite active and I ended up planning out a multi-chapter story. So I decided to turn this into the prologue, giving you readers a little tease of what's to come.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N:

"Thank you" to everyone who has read/review/fav/followed this fic and given it a chance! It's been a long while since I wrote, so it's empowering to see your interests in my work.

I want to begin by saying the purpose of my prologue was to give you in broad strokes an idea of what's going to happen in the story (up until a certain point), meaning you will see the events unfold according to the structure laid out by the prologue. So, the story will not actually start with Gaara and Sakura already together, as you will see now. It will build up to that point.

My knowledge of Boruto is only limited to my research for the story, as I don't follow the series. So there will be potential inaccuracies, but as well as intended changes to the main elements. I wanted to write this idea particularly because 1). I haven't found many referencing the new era in the Gaasaku fandom, 2). I wanted to explore the realistic possibility that Gaara and Sakura can still get together despite Sasusaku becoming canon—Sasusaku canon will not deter me from making Gaasaku happen (shakes fist)!

Anyhow, without further ado, onto the first chapter!

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 _"Mama, are you really Papa's wife?"_

She gripped tightly the glass in front of her. A decisive tilt of the glass and a hard gulp, she took in the clear liquid in its entirety. It left an awfully bitter taste on her tongue and burned her esophagus on its way down.

Sakura Uchiha, former member of Team Kakashi, protégé of the Godaime Hokage, specialist in medical ninjutsu, expert in advanced chakra control, one punch girl… Such were the many reputable titles she fancied during her prouder years as a kunoichi of Konohagakure no Sato. But underneath all that? She was still human, overridden with her own fair share of insecurities and helplessness.

As much as she tried to conceal it behind the numerous roles she's taken on in her adult life, tonight was another instance when her truest side slipped through her cracked facade of pretense.

Situated at a lonely end of the bar, Sakura toyed with her empty glass and debated whether she should ask for more refills. How many did she have? She lost track, but it was obviously not enough. The memories in her head were still clear as day, and Sakura was there to forget.

 _"What's weird is Mama and Papa's relationship!"_

Children were brutally honest sometimes, she was convinced. Still, her daughter was right. Even a 12-year-old could see it.

When Sakura first came into the pub, she demanded for the strongest drink that the establishment offered. Whatever the mystery concoction that the man behind the counter gave her, it offended her virgin senses; but, it was a necessary medication.

The prolonged absence of her significant other and his affections were sorely felt. It was too depressing to lie awake night after night in her bed: The emptiness of the space next to her fueled her restlessness, and the dampness on her pillowcase served as her constant reminder that there were no shoulders for her to cry on. Sometimes, only sometimes, Sakura fantasized what if she had instead married… —No! Shaking her head, she wouldn't let her corrupt mind go there.

Despite being a non-drinker, she decided she'd seek companionship in alcoholism tonight. She had really hit a low point in life, she thought. However, none of her friends seemed to suspect anything amiss.

In fact, she was always on the receiving end of endless envy from her peers. But truthfully, she envied them. Her pride had kept herself from speaking out and her pain muted. After all, everyone believed that she got her happy ending: Married to the man of her dreams—the sole survivor of the Uchiha clan, savior of the world, and not to mention "Konoha's eligible bachelor of the century," as Ino had flatteringly joked.

 _I really am a bad mother._ Sakura thought to herself in disdain. This was not how a 33-year-old mother of one should act.

But… this was also not the married life she envisioned: Sacrificing her career and aspirations, single-handedly raising a child, and being physically separated from her husband for an unnatural length of time. Still, she wouldn't trade this life for the world because it had bestowed her the greatest gift of all. _Sarada…_

Her daughter was temporarily staying over at her grandparents' house, while Sakura managed their move into the new apartment. Though instead of unpacking boxes and re-arranging their belongings in their new home, Sakura found her exhausted self at the bar on a late night, needing an escape that no other outlets could offer.

 _I really am a bad mother._ Sakura inwardly scolded herself again.

She felt horrible for her daughter. Sarada didn't deserve this—her mother acting so irresponsibly, and her father… The resentment gnawed to resurface. Sakura's jaw hardened. She herself could endure the suffocating loneliness, but the least her partner could do was to be there for their daughter during the most crucial years of her growth!

 _"Our family is really dysfunctional."_

Sarada was right. Their family was an utter mess: A temperamental mother who destroyed their house in a fit of rage, and a father who was never home because he was on some glorified mission to save the world once again.

Distraught by the thought, Sakura could feel the corners of her eyes dampen against her will. How pathetic, she wiped at her eyes with little grace.

It was when a few familiar faces filed into the building that snapped Sakura out of her inner turmoil. Some chuunins that worked in the human resources division at the Kage tower, she reckoned while ducking her head out of reflex. The polished and virtuous wife of Sasuke Uchiha couldn't be caught in her shameful indulgence! The last thing she wanted was for her little night out turn her into the talk of the town.

The newcomers made eye contact with her. Panicking, Sakura could feel her fight or flight mechanism kicking into gear. Shifting ever so closely to the edge of her seat, she was ready to race to the exit. However, when her colleagues took no notice of her and blended into the crowd, she relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief.

Fishing a compact mirror out of her pant pocket and holding it at eye-level, Sakura examined her own reflection. She almost couldn't recognize the image of the person that held her blank stares. In lieu of her emerald eyes were orbs of chocolate brown; and long black tresses replaced her pink shoulder-length bob, heavy fringe covering the distinct seal on her forehead. Thank goodness her disguise seemed to be airtight, for she really wouldn't want any of her friends or acquaintances see her sorry self binging the night away on liquor.

Recomposing herself on her stool, Sakura confidently beckoned the bartender for another glass.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Gaara left the Nara residence. He hadn't intended to prolong his stay into such hours, but Temari's apparent fondness of their conversations prevented him from an early retreat. She took advantage of his visit and insisted that he stay as long as possible. After all, their reunion was overdue, and it had been a while since Gaara last saw his older sister.

Together, they talked about their lives and reminisced about the past. To him, Temari had become more sentimental over the years—a stark contrast to the headstrong demeanor she previously carried. Perhaps a result of being married and having a family of her own, Gaara supposed. It interested him to observe how the individuals around him have changed over time. Himself included. If someone were to tell him in his youth that he would grow to love and be loved by his siblings and others, Gaara would have found that nonsense laughable. Conversely, to think that that he had dealt with his closed ones rather gratingly during his younger years was enough to overcome him with remorse.

Stepping into the streets of Konohagakure, Gaara noticed that the scene before him was virtually devoid of any pedestrians. Needing no help in navigation, he effortlessly chose the path in the direction of his hotel and began his solitary journey. Despite the developments and expansions that had transformed the Hidden Leaf in the last decade, his thorough knowledge of the village's in-and-out could rival that of a local tour guide. His familiarity of this place was unsurprising, since his business dealings often dictated his presence here. After his sister had married and moved to Konoha, he now had a personal interest to visit as well. The flourishing village was starting to become like his second home.

Nonetheless, there was one thing about Konoha that was to his distaste, occasionally: The rain. Of course, Gaara knew the frequency and scale of which paled in comparison to the level of precipitation that characterized Amegakure. It had rained once or twice during his current stay, but even that was more than too much for his personal preference. He was glad that mother nature decided to be more agreeable for the latter half of his visit. He really hated the rain, he hated the wetness, _and_ it was not good for his sand. He was, after all, truly a child of the desert.

As Gaara rounded the corner of another block onto a smaller street, the same view again greeted him: Quietness reigned, and there was no living being to perturb the peace of the night. He assumed that the residents had long gone to sleep, a natural condition of the body that continued to evade him even with Shukaku long gone. So despite the lure of the night that naturally induced somnolence from people, he was still as awake and alert as ever…

…in fact, so alert that he immediately picked up a faint unusual hum within vicinity. He halted his footsteps. His ears perked up.

The feeble groan was unmistakably human. It was almost whisper-like, sounding so low that an average person would not have easily detected. He heard it though, for his keen senses never failed him in or out of the battleground. Pinpointing the direction of the sound, he sought to investigate the disturbance that disrupted the silence that blanketed the village.

A few steps and a right turn took Gaara to the entrance of an alleyway perpendicular to the main road. He suddenly stilled at the sight before him. His instinct automatically put him on guard.

A few feet before him, a slender body was on the ground in a fetal position. The long hair and feminine clothing gave indications to their owner's gender. It was a woman, Gaara noted.

He had found himself in a curious situation. The woman, seemingly semi-conscious, was very much out of place. The ebb and flow of her weak groans continued to reverberate through the atmosphere. _A trap, perhaps?_ Gaara suspected and subtly inspected his surroundings. Sensing nothing out of the extraordinary, he decided to approach the body with his sand at bay. She could be injured, or dying. He narrowed his eyes.

Gaara held mild apprehension, as he knelt down next to the woman. He checked her wrist for pulse. No abnormality. There were no visible wounds on her exterior either. It was then a whiff of a harsh scent that cleared up the mystery for Gaara.

Alcohol. He wrinkled his nose. So this woman was simply some drunkard that passed out in the middle of the street, he deduced.

If this were his younger years, Gaara would've left people like this for dead and he could care less; sometimes, if he were in his good "Samaritan" mood, he might have helped to end their misery by making them guests of his infamous Sand Coffin.

But, that was a period that Gaara was not proud of… He grabbed the woman's shoulders and maneuvered her upward into a sitting position against the wall. She stirred slightly in the process. Now facing directly at her, Gaara took a moment to examine her features. Fair skin, dark hair, blunt bangs…

Somehow, the woman looked strangely familiar? Had he seen her somewhere? Why was she alone? Questions filled his head.

Gaara shook the drunken woman a little, wondering if he could get her to her senses first and then proceed from there. The force in his movement was enough to agitate her from her stupor. She opened her eyes.

Even in the dimly lit space, her eyes were mesmerizing, unmarred by the redness and puffiness in her lids: One vivid green; the other, decadent brown. It was a peculiar combination, the likeness of which he'd never seen.

"Can you stand?" Gaara asked her.

She bobbed her head up and down sluggishly. Gaara held onto her arms. With a deliberate pull, he lifted the woman to her feet. No sooner did she stand, she faltered and took a shaky step forward. Gaara caught and steadied her before she could plant into him. She looked up at him and gave him a lopsided grin.

He frowned. Now came to Gaara the more important question: What was he to do with her?

He briefly considered his options. The somewhat responsive state of the woman didn't seem to warrant a reasonable visit to the emergency room. On the other hand, he hesitated to show up on Temari's doorsteps again at such an unreasonable hour with a barely conscious stranger in his arms just to earn an earful from his sister. After all, his ability to survive on minimal sleep was a blessing or curse, however which way one looked at it, _not_ readily shared by others.

As Gaara contemplated his next course of actions, the limp woman in his hold produced another troubling sound.

The retching noise from the back of her throat was foreboding. Upon recognizing seconds too late what was to come, Gaara froze in abject dread. His absolute defense was a pitiful nanosecond too slow for the woman's "attack"…

…as she promptly ejected her stomach content all over him and herself.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Her head pounded, her muscles ached, and her eyelids felt like concrete. Sakura woke up to a sensation that she could only describe as "pure awful." Slowly sitting herself up, she struggled to open both eyes completely. Through her heavy lids, she could make out vague outlines and shapes of some furnitures nearby.

With one destination in mind, Sakura forced herself to her feet with measured difficulty. Despite her bleary vision, she managed to stumble to what she hoped was the bathroom when she felt her bare feet drag from smooth hardwood to cold tiles.

She felt her way toward the sink. With her hands clutched onto either side of the basin, Sakura pushed herself upward to face the mirror.

Nothing but blobs, she saw.

Her sight was still fuzzy apparently. The abrasive irritation from one of her eyes was telling. Suddenly remembering, Sakura used one hand to pull open her left eye and the other to remove the colored contact lens. Forget precision or hygiene! _Ironic,_ she knew, especially given her line of profession. But right now, she only cared about getting rid of the cursed object that caused her so much discomfort. Should've gone with a transformation jutsu, she bemoaned; then again, given the intention behind her visit to the pub, she didn't think she'd have the fullest mental awareness to have kept it up all night.

Quickly turning on the faucet, Sakura lowered her face to the cooling stream. She scooped a few handfuls of tap into her dehydrated mouth to rinse out the gross taste inside, swallowing some in the process to quench her thirst. Then she splashed the water against her face to refresh.

The aches in her temples and her left eye remained. Sakura hovered a hand over the side of her face, where the pain resided. Concentrating, she channeled her chakra to her palm, and a green glow manifested. She winced. She was a tad out of practice; her ministration was sloppier than before, although minimally so.

Relief came nonetheless, as the throbbing soon subsided.

Clarity returned, but composure fled once Sakura regained her vision. _This is not my bathroom…_ As quickly as that realization came, panic set in when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Never mind the horrible pink mess that was her hair, the puffiness within her eye sockets, or her bloodshot eyes… she was in her bras! Sure, she still had her pants on, but that did nothing to calm her.

Sakura ran out of the bathroom. Her brain busily processed the image before her: A spacious room with desks and chairs that matched in style; floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed in enough daylight through the half-drawn curtains; and a king-sized bed, where she obviously had slept on… It was minimalist, unfamiliar, and _definitely not her home_.

And then there was Sakura, standing topless in the middle of it all.

 _Oh no._

This was starting to resemble a scene out of some cliché movie that she'd watched and ridiculed long ago. But now, she was the central character.

At that moment, the clicking of the door handle broke Sakura out of her shock. She had less than seconds to deliberate what to do. However, given her state of undress, she doubted that whoever took her here had noble intentions. Pumping chakra to a clenched fist, she readied herself—looked like it was going to be "punch first, question later," she decided.

The door slid open. She gritted her teeth. Her fist flew forward.

The collision was harder than she expected, producing a small wave of vibration through the atmosphere. A gasp escaped through her lips, as Sakura beheld the wall of sand in place of what she had hoped to be the flesh of her human target. _Sand?_ That could only mean…!

The grains dissipated. Sakura gawked. In front of her, stood the one and only.

"Ga-Gaara?" _What the hell?_ She couldn't believe her eyes.

"I see you are awake."

Sakura blinked, then squealed, "Eek, don't look!" Remembering that she was still indecent, she dashed back into the bed and threw the covers over herself. Her cheeks heated a few degrees hotter along the way.

As instructed, the red-haired man averted his gaze away from her. Sakura watched him guardedly as he walked into the room. He'd donned a rather casual black shirt and pants of the same shade, a plastic bag in his arm.

"Where am I? What happened?" Sakura demanded, while pulling the comforter up to her chin.

Gaara stopped by the dresser opposite of the bed, seemingly to take some items out of the bag and place them on top of the dresser. With his back against her, he replied in an impassive manner, "In my hotel room."

Sakura couldn't see the objects that he got out. Actually, she didn't care, because her mind was now working overdrive in trying to understand this increasingly weird situation. A hundred thoughts raced through her head. She saw Gaara survey her through his peripherals, before he finally turned to face her. He questioned, "Do you not recall anything from last night?"

Sakura bit her lips, mentally searching through her memories for clues. She was at the bar drinking to her heart's content, she recalled. However, the rest was… _Blank._ This was bad news… Sakura slowly glanced up at Gaara with wide frightful eyes. Her mouth went dry.

"Oh god… please don't tell me you and I… we… "

"We did not engage in any activities that would tarnish your virtue, if that's what you are assuming." He folded his arms and dismissed her idea immediately. He then went on to explain further, "I came across you on my way back. You were inebriated. Your condition required assistance, so I—"

"So you brought me here, and you undressed me?" Sakura interjected, eyes narrowing dangerously at the man before her.

"It was necessary, given the circumstances," he responded matter-of-factly.

"How is it necessary under any circumstance to remove someone's clothes without their permission!" she shrilled. Technically, Sakura could think of a few instances, which would call for medical attention; but none seemed applicable to her situation.

"Would you have preferred to sleep in your soiled clothes?" He retorted, while absentmindedly gesturing toward a pile of garments in one corner of the room, something that Sakura failed to notice earlier.

"What?"

"You…" He paused briefly before continuing, "experienced irritation to the stomach."

Gaara's answer was rather vague, but Sakura didn't need to be a genius to put two and two together. Although she appreciated the degree of tact in which the man delivered the news, it failed to ease the rising disbelief and horror that surmounted her earlier exasperation. Her lips thinned as she tried to reconcile with the implication of his revelation. So she'd thrown up and somehow dirtied her clothes in the process? Sakura refocused on the red-haired man as an inkling of understanding came to her regarding her current unclothed state. Of course, she wouldn't want to sleep in her own vomit, but still… She shook her head. No, for as long as she'd known him, Gaara was not _that_ type of person. His actions were probably out of practicality.

While she continued to conflict within herself over the incidents that took place, Gaara, on the other hand, seemed to waste no time in moving on to a different topic of his interest. "Was there a reason to your disguise?"

"Huh?" The question caught her off-guard. Then it hit her. _Right, her disguise._ She couldn't possibly tell him that she hid her identity on purpose so she could get drunk without worrying about her goody two-shoes reputation. She wanted to avoid any additional embarrassment more than what was already there. "I was… just trying on a new look, you know."

If Gaara was unconvinced about her answer, he said nothing. Instead, he moved away from the dresser against which he leaned. Sakura could now see on the top board there was a bottle of water and… a t-shirt?

"There is change for you. I will be outside, should you need anything else." His statement was self-explanatory. Then Gaara proceeded to leave the room, presumably to give her some privacy.

"Th-thanks," she murmured, not sure if he'd even hear her.

When the door closed behind Gaara, Sakura was left alone to absorb the bizarre encounter that just took place. In all honesty, she didn't want to analyze the events that had occurred up to this point. Right now, her priority was to be anywhere but here. She hurried off the bed. Finding her sandals nearby, she slipped into them and walked over to the the dresser. She grabbed the white tee. A simple one at that, free of any designs; it looked a size entirely too big too. Not her style, but she'd put it on anyway without any complaints. At least Gaara was thoughtful enough to provide her a change of clothes, she mused.

Once proper, Sakura walked over to the bundle of clothes neglected in the corner of the room. It was a loose mixture of red and brown—so her wig was there too, she cringed. So much for trying not be recognized. There was also another lone article discarded to the side, she noticed. Maroon? She never owned anything maroon... Sakura blanched when she saw stains on the shirt, which she discerned as a stable piece in the wardrobe of a certain redhead. All of a sudden, the fact that Gaara had been "liberal" with her person didn't rattle her as much as her newest discovery: He didn't tell her that he too had fallen victim to the occasion of her "irritation to the stomach"!

The subtle foul smell emitting from the pile was starting to invade her nostrils. Sakura didn't dare to examine them any more closely, for she was sure that she would puke for the second time in the last 24 hours. Consciously channeling her breathing through her mouth, she carefully gathered the clothes into her arms. Standing herself upright, she practiced her breathing exercises and focused her attention on the doorway that connected the bedroom and what she assumed was the living room. Inhaling (but not too hard), she marched onward. It was time for her to clean up her embarrassing act and bow out from the scene with as much grace as possible.

Upon exiting the sleeping quarter, Sakura was not surprised to find Gaara sitting on the couch in the living room of his grand suite.

"Gaara," she began, trying to stay as collected as possible. Just _maybe_ she could do this, she thought.

The redhead looked up from some documents that he was perusing.

Oh, how Sakura wished that she had the ability to kamui her humiliating ass out of his presence right then and there!

"I'm…" she started. "…sosorryaboutyourclohtes. I'llcleanandreturnitassoonaspossible."

Before the man could decipher her alien-like language, Sakura bolted for the door. In a whirlwind, she hightailed out of the room without sparing one single look back, leaving Gaara gaping after her rushed exit for quite some time.

* * *

Standing in front of the washer, Sakura feverishly scrubbed the fabrics in her hands. She was quite upset and ashamed of herself. She had no idea where she went right after her outing to the pub, and she didn't know how and what kind of state she was found… One thing was established, however. She would not go near alcohol _ever again_.

It could not get any more humiliating than this, Sakura thought, to have Gaara, out of _all_ people, personally witness—no, _experience_ such a low point in her life and possibly the biggest embarrassment of her lifetime. She felt sorry for him. In no way was it acceptable to get reacquainted under such circumstance, especially when she'd hardly seen Gaara in the past year or so. The more she dwelt on the event of the previous night, the more she debated the idea of changing her name and moving to another country. Alas, that option would not do, for she still had a family to support.

Sakura held Gaara's shirt up and inspected her work. The stubborn stains were beginning to fade, thankfully. She wished that she could erase her big gaffe the same way she did with those stains. If only she hadn't been so indiscriminate with her drinking, if only she hadn't felt depressed, if only Sarada hadn't reminded her of her disappointing marriage life, if only she hadn't been alone all this time, if only her husband had been home…

 _Sasuke…_

Her grip on the shirt tightened. Her form shook involuntarily. No, what happened wasn't her fault, she seethed. It was _his_ fault.

"Mama!"

"Oh geez!" Sakura jumped at the sudden cry that startled her out of her thoughts. The fabric in her hands dropped to the floor with a wet plop.

A young raven-haired girl came into Sakura's view at once. The child regarded the older woman questionably.

"Sa-Sarada, what are you doing here?"

"I brought lunch from Grandma. What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Sakura answered a little too quickly for her own liking. She bent down to pick up the shirt. "Why don't you go set up the table for lunch?"

"Okay? You are acting weird again." Sarada raised an eyebrow at her but didn't pursue the subject. She made her way to the kitchen.

Gazing after her daughter's retreating form, Sakura sighed. This really was _not_ how a 33-year-old mother should act.

* * *

 _"I'm sorry, but the Kazekage has already checked out."_

Sakura aimlessly stood at the entrance to Konoha's newest hotel that was known to host foreign businessmen and dignitaries. Her goal was to return the garment in her possession to its rightful owner. In her hastened departure earlier that day, Sakura hadn't made efforts to note down his room number. No big deal. She could ask the receptionist to deliver the package on her behalf. Secretly, she preferred it that way anyway, for she wasn't sure if she was thick-skinned enough to face him in person at the moment.

But, mission _un_ accomplished.

The sweet lady at the front desk had informed her that the Hidden Sand's leader has already left. Gaara must have gone back to Suna, Sakura figured. She peered into the gift bag that she held in her arms. His maroon shirt, immaculate once again, sat neatly folded at the bottom.

Sakura muttered to herself, "I guess next time then…"


	4. Chapter 3

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

Trudging out of the gates of the Konoha hospital, Sakura stretched her arms into the air and immediately cringed at the cracking noise of her stiff joints. Crease formed between her brows, when she thought about the last three hours she'd spent hunching over the lab table to fine-tune a healing technique that she used to perform flawlessly. Being quite the perfectionist, she was disturbed to no end to see her skills deteriorate even the tiniest amount. Even though she knew that her excused hiatus from hospital duties was the cause, she had no solution. As much as she would've loved to dedicate more time to her passion for medical ninjutsu, her family came first and foremost.

With a resigned sigh, Sakura straightened herself. She began in the direction of her apartment, while mentally noting down the chores that awaited her at home. Though she didn't get very far on that list, when her thinking was interrupted by her sighting of a familiar figure amid the pedestrians in the busy afternoon streets.

 _Isn't that…_ Sakura squinted. Red and maroon. She'd recognize that trademark color scheme anywhere. Something jolted her memory at once—she still had unfinished business with the person in view!

"Gaara!" Picking up her pace, she jogged toward the individual.

Sakura came to a halt before the Kazekage of Sunagakure, just as he turned around to meet her. Shifting his jade eyes to focus on her, he greeted, "It's been a while. I hope all is well."

"Not too many complaints, I guess." She smiled a polite smile. "What are you doing in Konoha? Work?"

"Yes." She realized that she'd just asked the obvious.

Sakura waited a second more in case he wanted to elaborate on what business he had with the Hidden Leaf this time, but his matching silence conveyed that he had no plan to do so. She shrugged. It was probably some top-level, classified stuff she wasn't privy to. "Oh okay. How long will you be here?"

"I anticipate a few days."

Not a man of many words, Sakura thought. Then again, she'd always known that facet about Gaara: Getting more than a paragraph out of the redhead could be like pulling teeth. There was mystery to this man. And in a way, he reminded her of Sasuke…

As the exchange of general pleasantries came to an end, Sakura initiated a switch in the direction of their conversation to touch the subject on her mind.

"By the way, I still have your shirt."

Gaara tilted his head in confusion.

"I made it dirty, remember?"

He answered her question with a minute shaking of his head.

"Umm… when was it… maybe two months ago? When I had too much to drink and you helped me?" Crinkling her nose, Sakura tried to aid the man's memory without reliving the finer details.

She caught a flicker in his teal orbs. "Yes… I recall."

Sakura forced an awkward laugh. She wasn't sure if she should be glad or ashamed that he hasn't erased the whole fiasco from his memory yet. "Well, anyway, I cleaned your shirt. It's at my home. Would you like to come with me to get it, if you are not too busy?"

"That would be fine," he accepted.

"Great."

* * *

A couple rounds of mostly one-sided mindless chitchats about the weather later, Sakura reached her apartment with the red-haired Kage in tow. She unlocked the front door and motioned for her guest to enter. "Here we are! Please come in."

She led the taller man into the living room and played her part as the hospitable host. "Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea?"

Gaara obligingly found himself a fitting spot on the couch. "If it's not too much trouble, tea would suffice. Thank you."

"Of course! I'll be right back." Sakura sprinted into the kitchen to begin her task of tea-making. As she gathered the materials from her pantry, she stole glimpses at the redhead, who seemed to be leisurely browsing the layout of the space. Her mouth set into a thin line, Sakura knew she owed him a proper apology for the inconvenience she'd caused him last time.

When the kettle on the stove whistled, Sakura lifted it off the heat to pour the hot water into the already prepared teapot. She then arranged the tea set onto a tray before bringing it into the living room.

Setting the tray on the coffee table, Sakura filled Gaara's cup with tea and proceeded to do the same for herself. He nodded in appreciation, as she sat down on the adjacent loveseat. Settling herself into a comfortable position, she made eye contact with him. She was pressed to get that inevitable apology off her chest.

"Gaara—" she started, but her opportunity was abruptly stolen when a loud announcement, coupled with the slamming of the front door, interrupted her.

"I'm home!"

In walked her daughter.

Sakura angled her head to see Sarada pausing mid-step. Her onyx eyes darted toward Gaara; her mouth hung open.

"Umm… Mama, why is the Kazekage in our living room?" she blurted out.

"I invited him for tea. Don't just stand there. Come and introduce yourself to our guest." Sakura ushered for her daughter to come closer.

The young girl obediently stepped forward. Bowing slightly, she spoke with perceptible reverence, "Kazekage-sama, I'm Uchiha Sarada. It's an honor to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine." The ends of Gaara's lips turned up.

"Kazekage-sama, you and my mom are friends?"

Sakura wasn't expecting the follow-up question from Sarada. She glanced over to Gaara, whose attention was wholly rested on her daughter. Sakura tapped on her chin. Sure, she and Gaara knew each other, but to call each other "friends" was a rather broad use of the term. Gaara and Naruto were friends—there was no ambiguity there. Her little interactions with Gaara throughout the years constituted more closely to the level of acquaintance, really. With that interpretation, Sakura wondered if she should clarify their nuanced relationship on his behalf.

"Yes." Gaara's answer swiftly dismissed her intention, surprising her somewhat with his clear affirmation. Maybe she was over-thinking it in the first place.

"What about my dad? Are you friends with him too?"

Sakura suddenly felt a prick in her chest.

"We are acquainted."

Sarada's face lit up. She promptly plopped herself down next to Gaara on the couch. "What's he like? Mama never tells me anything."

Sakura's hands balled in her laps. She swallowed. What would Gaara say? There could be so many things said, given her husband's rather _colorful_ past. And for this precise reason, she'd withheld all the objectionable information about Sasuke from Sarada, leaving sadly little for her daughter to construe the persona of her long-time absent father. As for Gaara's perception of Sasuke... Sakura knew they've crossed paths on several occasions, but she remembered none being on friendly terms. Her confidence in the redhead, or anyone else for that matter, to give a favorable opinion dwindled.

So before Gaara could reply, she chose to deflect. "Sarada. That's enough. Your dad and the Kazekage don't know each other that well."

Her assertion earned her a measured look from Gaara. She didn't want to acknowledge it. Instead, she opted to give her daughter a stern stare.

Sarada fought her scowl with a pout, but decided to yield on the topic. "Kazekage-sama, is it true that you were the youngest in history to become a Kage?"

At her subsequent question, Gaara brought his focus back to her. "I believe I was fourteen when I assumed my position."

"That's so cool! We learned about you in school…"

Now Sakura hadn't seen it coming. Just like that, her daughter hijacked her chance to talk to Gaara and address the issue she had in mind. Nonetheless, it warmed her heart to see Sarada become increasingly animated in her conversation with the older male. The last time she'd seen her this excited was during her graduation from The Academy. So if a chat with Gaara was all it took to get that precious smile on Sarada's face to stay longer, Sakura was content to let her monopolize the Kazekage's attention for the time being.

"You were also the commander-in-chief of all the combat divisions of the Allied Shinobi Force during the war!"

As Sarada began gushing about the countless feats that the Kazekage has accomplished, Sakura shook her head resignedly. She just hoped that Gaara wasn't put off by her daughter's impromptu interview of his lifetime achievements. With a quick scan of his face, she was glad to see that the calmness in his expression revealed nothing of the sort.

Sakura, now willingly left out of the conversation, directed her attention to her neglected cup of tea. Some snacks as an accompaniment would be nice, she decided as she sipped on the warm liquid. Quietly excusing herself from the scene, she sauntered to the kitchen. In the background, she could hear snippets about the Fourth Shinobi War being exchanged between Gaara and Sarada.

As Sakura searched in her pantry for the particular biscuits and crackers that she was craving for, she overheard Sarada inquire, "Kazekage-sama. Will you train me please?"

Sakura went owlish. That just came out of nowhere? How could her daughter make such a request to a person of Gaara's stature? He was the Kazekage of Sunagakure. He had his village to lead, people to protect, meetings to attend, and deals to negotiate. Among the duties he shouldered, he was by no means an instructor at someone's whims and fancies. She didn't know what had possessed her daughter to come up with this ridiculous idea.

"Sarada!" A box of confections in her hand, Sakura cut in from the kitchen.

Sarada ignored her warning call and carried on, "Mama never has time, and Papa is always away. I want to be strong, like you. I want to be Hokage someday."

"Your goal is to become the Hokage," Gaara reiterated.

"Yes, I want to be able to make connections with everyone and protect the village, like Nanadaime."

"I see."

"Sarada, you can't train with the Kazekage," Sakura reentered the living room with a plate of cookies.

Her daughter argued, "Why not? I asked Kazekage-sama. I didn't ask you."

"It's not appropriate to ask such things. He's too busy!"

Sarada huffed and crossed her arms. She scrunched up her face at Sakura, who gladly returned in kind.

"I have time to spare." Gaara's voice resonated in their ears, effectively putting a stop to the glaring match between the mother and daughter.

Sakura blinked at the red-haired male, so did the young Uchiha. "Eh?"

"You can train me?" Sarada clasped her hands together hopefully.

Gaara gave a firm nod.

"Yeah!" Sarada exclaimed, throwing her hands up in joy. She stuck her tongue out at Sakura, not making any efforts to hide her victorious grin.

"Are you sure?" Sakura asked Gaara incredulously.

"Indeed." He did not waver in his confirmation. Setting his empty cup down, he mentioned to his host, "I should get going."

"Already?" Sakura looked between the plate of sweets in her hands and Gaara.

"I have a function that I must attend this evening." Turning his head toward the youth beside him, he said, "Sarada, we can commence your training tomorrow."

"Yes!" The young girl beamed.

"Thank you for your hospitality." Gaara rose from his seat, meeting Sakura at eye level.

"Ah, Gaara, let me see you out." She hurriedly set the plate down to follow him.

* * *

Gaara watched as Sakura pulled the door to her apartment close behind her and fell into steps alongside him. She had politely offered to accompany him on his walk back to his lodging. He didn't need an escort, but he didn't protest her company, for he sensed a purpose in her self-invitation.

"Sorry about Sarada. She oversteps her boundaries sometimes. You don't have to take her request too seriously," she told him over the thuds of their matching footsteps.

"She aspires to be the Hokage one day. She will require the proper support and guidance to help her realize her goal." He gave her his honest input.

"I know. It seems like Naruto's had a lot of influence on her." A ghost of a smile graced her countenance before she continued, "I appreciate your willingness to train her, but the last thing I'd want is to burden you."

"It's not a burden."

If it was, Gaara would not have hesitated to let it be known. The fact of the matter was he did have time in his schedule to accommodate a few training sessions. Having Naruto in charge of the Hidden Leaf's affairs made his official visits easier; it meant fewer _unnecessary_ meetings. He appreciated that his best friend too had little patience for superfluous formalities and protocols.

On a personal level, he welcomed the opportunity. He'd been indebted to Naruto and several of Konoha's finest for saving his life more than once. He thought he'd pay it forward by mentoring the young Genin to be the next possible Hokage candidate.

"Gaara, listen. I…" His female companion drawled, her tone marginally somber.

He glanced over to see her craning her neck so to face him fully. The corners of her mouth dropped, as she asked for understanding. "I want to properly apologize for what happened last time. I hope you don't think what I did was a reflection of my person."

Gaara knew the reference. He admitted that he hadn't paid much thought toward the incident at the time. In between the endless mission reports, council assemblies, and negotiations, he had filed it away deep within his memory for later analysis should the occasion arise. That occasion, perhaps would be now.

He surveyed her features. Her expression stayed hopeful as her eyes probed him for empathy. Their previous encounter ran afresh in his mind. If her lackluster appearance were any indication, she looked the same now and then: Worn down like the weathered cliff in the harsh desert wind.

Gaara noted out loud. "You are not as I remembered."

"Really?" The pitch in her voice elevated.

Although their past interactions were limited, two events replayed vividly in Gaara's mind at the thought of her. In the aftermath of his rescue from the Akatsuki, he remembered waking up from literal death to see her tearfully mourning over Chiyo's lifeless form. During his subsequent briefing, he learned that the pink-haired Konoha-nin, despite all odds, had defeated the notorious Sasori of the Red Sand and also saved his brother when all other efforts were to no avail. Then, there was their brief teamwork during the war. The extraordinary extent she'd gone to keep their friend alive had left him in awe.

Yet, it was that unfaltering defiance in her glistening eyes during those moments that stirred him. Etched in the depth of his memory were those vibrant green pools that reflected passion, determination, and fierceness. She was no simple kunoichi.

But now, she seemed unnaturally mellow, the fire in her vacant eyes non-existing.

His brooding silence prompted a defensive posture from her. She briskly waved her hands before her and insisted, "I swear that was an one-time thing only. I was really stressed about some things and needed a break. I usually don't drink at all!"

Gaara took in the sight of her agitated state. She misread his observations. He never pegged her to have a penchant for liquor; he thought she'd have her reasons.

"The things you stressed over… still persist?" he questioned.

Her gaze became downcast, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"No. I'm fine now…"

Her response lacked conviction. But if she didn't want to share, he didn't want to pry.

"Sakura." He called her by her name.

"Hm?"

"Take care of yourself." That was all he could offer her for now.

Seemingly startled at first, Sakura soon smoothed her frown into a smile.

"I will."

* * *

A/N:

In reviewing these recent and upcoming chapters, I'm a little peeved by the uneven tone of the narratives. It seems that my humorous side (not that I'm that funny) always tried to take over and make some descriptions too light-hearted at times. I was hoping to make this story more... somber. Anyhow, I'm working on finding a more uniform tone in the future chapters, while giving a distinct voice to the characters in their respective POVs. So please bear with me, as I'm trying to get my writing mojo back and improve.

In case anyone is wondering about my upload schedule, I'm trying to get a new chapter up for this story every 1-2 weeks. Ideally, I was shooting for weekly updates. But my schedule got busier. :'( Plus, I got a little distracted by the MultiSaku month thing and decided to participate for GaaSaku day. ;) So I'll do some shameless plug here and encourage that you check out my GaaSaku one-shot on June 19. Likewise, I hope to see works from whoever would like to contribute to the fandom!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

The bag of azuki beans in her kitchen cabinet caught Sakura's eyes, as she stared at it interestedly. Something in the back of her mind nagged for her remembrance. Something about the burgundy color of the content attracted her attention… Slowly, it dawned on her:

"I forgot to give Gaara his shirt yesterday!" she exclaimed to no one in particular.

For the very reason of returning his belonging, she had specifically invited the red-haired man to her apartment. _And_ she walked him back to his hotel. Yet she still managed to fail her mission. Hanging her head low, she grumbled about her own forgetfulness. It was unlike her, but it seemed that Gaara had missed it too. At least, on the other hand, her conscience was free of any baggage after she let that overdue apology out of her system.

"I'm sure there's always next time." Sakura gave herself a pass. She figured it wouldn't be the last time she'd see Gaara. Gently pushing the packaged legumes aside, she reached for the jar of rice she needed for dinner.

"I'm home!" Came the ritualistic announcement, but the glee within was discernible.

Sakura backed out of the kitchen to see Sarada hastily kicking off her sandals and bouncing into her field of vision. She frowned at the carelessly strewn footwear behind her daughter in the hallway. Now in her adult life, Sakura finally empathized with her own mother when the elder Haruno used to badger her about her messiness around the house.

"Welcome home." Sakura remarked, "You are back early, Sarada."

Her daughter chirped in between her audible pants, "I asked Konohamaru-sensei to let us off a little earlier today." She conducted a quick 360-degree scan of their living room and asked, "Did Kazekage-sama stop by yet?"

 _Right… the training._ Sakura remembered.

"No, not yet."

"Oh. What about our training session…"

She noticed her daughter's shoulders slouch.

"Sarada, I told you. The Kazekage is a very busy person. Maybe he will not have time to train you today. Why don't you go freshen up and help me prepare for dinner?"

Her daughter was not having it. She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you are so annoying."

Sakura blinked. The corner of her lip twitched. _Is this the teenage rebellion phase? Shannaro!_ Dealing with an adolescent sure was challenging sometimes, especially having to do it alone. She chided, "Hey now, that's no way to speak to your mother."

"Hmph." Sarada crossed her arms defensively, refusing to back down from another impending battle of the will between mother and daughter, in the usual form of a staring competition.

"Sarada…" hands on her hips, Sakura warned.

It was then a staccato string of knocks that ended their contest prematurely.

Sarada was the first to break away from their eye lock. She rushed toward the entryway. At the creaking of the door, her elated cry was heard. "Kazekage-sama!"

Sakura trailed after her daughter. Falling into a stop next to Sarada, she smiled at the tall figure that occupied the entrance to her apartment. There he was, unmistakably, the renowned leader of Sunagakure.

"Hello, Gaara."

"Good afternoon," Gaara greeted the duo. He then brought his focus to Sarada, "Shall we begin your training session?"

"Yes!" Her daughter was already in the middle of pulling her sandals back on. Jumping to her feet, she plastered a wide smile on her face. "Let's go!"

Sakura smiled in defeat at her daughter's antics. As Gaara and Sarada turned to leave, she couldn't resist her maternal instinct from surfacing.

"Be careful!" she called out, lingering by the doorway well until after the two have disappeared into the distance before retreating inside.

* * *

Sarada Uchiha. Sasuke Uchiha's daughter.

Gaara surveyed the young girl before him. Her physical traits were strikingly characteristic of her father, but she bore resemblance to her mother in her enthusiasm and expressive attitude. She also reminded him of Naruto in those nostalgic years when he would declare his lofty aim for the seat of the Hokage to anyone he crossed path with. For her ambition, he commended Sarada similarly.

Capabilities notwithstanding, the zeal that the young kunoichi exuded alone was a harbinger of great things to come, Gaara predicted. Hence, let it be his service to Konohagakure to assist in the development of her potential.

Although the role of a training instructor was not his specialty, it was not the first time Gaara mentored a fledgling shinobi. His experience in and out of the battlefields translated into insightful lessons he could pass on to those less seasoned than him. But first, he needed to assess the Genin's foundation.

"Sarada," Gaara began, as he settled into the center of one of Konoha's outdoor training grounds. "I want to get a read of your baseline first."

The girl's dark eyes were intently fixed on him, as she anticipated his next line of imperatives.

"I will be on defense; and you, offense. Your objective is to utilize any skills or techniques to attack me." Gaara stood unmoving, needing no physical or mental preparation for the imminent attacks that he just called for.

"Nothing is off-limits. Are you ready?" he added, lastly.

Feet staggered, abdomen tucked, Sarada shifted into her combat position; her expression, calculating.

"Ready!"

Before the last syllable of her word was even fully enunciated, she swung her weapons forward. Several shuriken sliced through the air toward her target. Bare inches away from Gaara's nose, the metal blades cut into a wall of sand that proudly stood to defend its owner. He remained unfazed, while his attacker was in awe.

"The Ultimate Defense in action. Incredible…"

The mass of sand fell into a mound on the ground and buried with it the previously lodged shuriken. Gaara noted, "Sarada, you did the right move to gauge your opponent's capabilities first while maintaining distance. You possess high accuracy with your aim."

The kunoichi nodded at his feedback.

While the girl paused, Gaara urged, "I understand that this is a practice, but I want you to continue your offense without intermission. Avoid creating an opening for your adversary to exploit."

"Yes sir!"

As prompted, Sarada charged at him without hesitation for her second round of offensives. She pelted Gaara with her kunai. In an instant, the shield of sand rushed to his protection. The weapons dove into the dense structure, the attached tags detonating instantly. Explosions erupted near Gaara. His sand sprang to contain the threat, without him moving so much as a muscle.

 _"Chaa!"_ A cry roared from the sky. A chakra-enhanced fist tore through the smokes and punched into the swiftly forming dome-like barrier above Gaara. Its force agitated the sandy surface, creating thin lines of cracks but no further damage.

At the failed attack, Sarada withdrew and landed a safe distance back. She pressed her lips together into a thin line. Her forehead furrowed.

Using his sand was hardly fair, Gaara knew. However, it was necessary to push the Genin's limits so to measure her aptitude.

"Kazekage-sama," Sarada started.

He angled his head toward her. A Cheshire cat grin gradually crept its way across the girl's face.

Adjusting her red-rimmed glasses, Sarada mouthed her next words slowly with intent. "You said nothing is off-limits, right?"

Noticing her roguish expression, Gaara regarded her with mild interest.

She closed her eyes. When they reopened within a split second, the black of her irises instantaneously gave way to red.

* * *

By sunset Gaara had delivered Sarada back to the Uchiha household. The front door opened to Sakura's ready welcome. She donned an apron with cherry blossom prints, a ladle in one hand. Her eyes sizing up the two, she said, "Welcome back. How did it go?"

"Great!" Sarada replied, as she skipped into the apartment.

At her daughter's cheerful tone, Sakura paralleled her mood with a content smile of her own. She looked up with appreciation at Gaara, who remained at their doorsteps. "Thank you for taking the time to train Sarada."

Gaara shook his head in modesty. "No need to mention it."

Before he could bid her a good evening and retire for the day, Sakura was quick to stop him with a request of her own. "Gaara, would you like to have dinner with us? I'm just about done with cooking."

The offer came unexpected. Gaara supposed it was an act of politeness. He appreciated her proposal but thought it inconsiderate to oblige them with his presence.

"I'd rather not impose," he told her.

"Not at all! There's more than enough food," Sakura discounted his message, slightly swinging the ladle in her hand as if for emphasis. To her side, Sarada eagerly chimed in. "Yeah. Kazekage-sama, join us, please?"

The mother and daughter's insistence was somewhat compelling. Gaara saw no valid reasons to object. From a practical standpoint, the invitation from the Uchiha household saved him the time and effort to explore dinner options on his own this evening. As much as he was grateful for his own sister's generosity, he couldn't possibly stomach another bowl of the homemade Kenchin soup that Temari specially concocted for his every visit.

"Very well then," he agreed without any further need to be convinced and was rewarded with pleased looks from the two females.

Gaara followed the two inside. Upon reaching the living room, Sarada excused herself to her room to change while Sakura settled him at the dinning table.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm just doing some finishing touches on the food." Sakura smiled at him warmly. She then withdrew herself into the kitchen. The open kitchen layout allowed Gaara to see his host from his vantage point. Although her back was presented to him, the thumping of the knife against the cutting board was an obvious clue to her activity at hand.

"I hope Sarada didn't do too bad during the training session." Sakura's voice carried over to his ears.

From where he sat, Gaara stared at her back as he spoke, "Sarada's foundations as a Genin are solid. She demonstrates mastery of basic to intermediate ninjutsu techniques."

His mind replayed the earlier training session on cue, as he gave additional feedback. "But her use of the Sharingan is still in its infancy. Its activation impacted her coordination. She also depleted her chakra reserve at an inefficient rate. I believe Sarada should benefit greatly from doujutsu-specific training from her father."

Sakura's chopping stopped.

"I see… That's too bad then. Sasuke is away most of the time," she said, sounding noticeably sullen.

Just then Gaara remembered that Sarada had mentioned the same about her father. Through Naruto, he was aware that Sasuke was on a long-term mission, the details of which he did not know, however.

"When will he return?"

"I don't know." To him, the manner in which Sakura shrugged her shoulders bordered nonchalance.

"How long has he been gone?"

"Several years." Her answer again came out curt.

At the present, he found Sakura's brusque mannerism strange.

Previously, she also showed apparent vexation at Sarada's inquiry to him about Sasuke. Gaara didn't miss the tension in Sakura's form, when she signaled her daughter to steer clear of the subject with little subtlety.

Twice now, the mentioning of Sasuke seemed to evoke negative reactions from her. Intentionally or unintentionally, Sakura was leaving him hints to her puzzle through her words and actions, Gaara thought.

Perhaps there was a connection here. He had sensed her melancholy from their recent interactions, as well as from her overall disposition. She seemed troubled. Her words from yesterday confirmed so. She was stressed about some things, she had said; and that was her claimed justification for her over-indulgence in alcohol many nights ago.

Surely there could be a handful of other reasons to Sakura's troubled state, but Gaara decided to venture his conjecture.

"It takes a toll on you, Sasuke's absence."

He had intended it to be a question, though it somehow came out as a statement.

From the way Sakura's head perked up, it was apparent that his abrupt input startled her. For a while she stayed silent, until she finally relented with a heavy sigh.

"I'll be honest. It's hard at times. I manage though." Without turning to him, she affirmed his speculation through her response.

Although Gaara was single, he was not ignorant of the challenges associated with raising a family. He had witnessed firsthand Temari's struggles with Shikadai's upbringing. At least his brother-in-law, despite his often lackadaisical attitude, gladly shared the undertaking.

The fact that Sarada professed that she knew scant about her father, as Gaara recalled, indicated to him that Sasuke has been gone for "several years" was likely an understatement. So he could only imagine the hardships that confronted Sakura while caring for her daughter alone.

"But it's okay, really. Whenever I think about him working hard for the good of the village, I know I have to try my best too." Despite her earlier confession, Sakura sought comfort in her own words of encouragement. But the faintness in her voice made Gaara question whether her self-assurance was truly effective.

By then, Sakura had resumed her chopping.

"I am starved!" Sarada, who had disappeared into her room earlier, marched into view.

"Sarada, come and help me set up the table."

He saw Sakura turned around to beckon her daughter from the kitchen. The smile that she wore appeared rather controlled. As Gaara continued to contemplate his exchange with Sakura that took place just now, he chose to say nothing more in that moment.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

Sakura hated it, that oppressive feeling of being alone. The emptiness of the apartment draped around her like a heavy mantle that seemed to drain all ounces of energy out of her. The monotony of the task before her added to her listlessness. She sluggishly stirred the soupy content in the pot on the stove, while sprinkling pinches of seasoning. Her mind was elsewhere as Gaara's words from the other day rang through her head.

 _"It takes a toll on you, Sasuke's absence."_

Sakura shook in her spot. Of course Sasuke's absence affected her. She was not some unfeeling robot!

Still, this was not something she outwardly admitted, nor a topic that her friends ever provoked her about. As time went on, everyone had become too engrossed in their own lives to pay mind to the symptoms of her distress. So she'd decided to keep up her cheerful pretense, because—one, she was too proud; two, she figured nobody would want to be around a downer.

But now that Gaara had gone and brought _it_ up into the glaring spotlight, she couldn't help but feel indignant once again.

Sakura could literally count using one hand how many times Sasuke had been home in the last ten years—even then, five fingers was three too many. In between his travels, she rarely heard from him and could only held on to her assumption that he was even still alive. When he did return, usually unannounced and for a short duration, he showered her so little affection that it left her in quite a dry spell.

No, Sasuke wasn't just absent. It was more like abandonment.

Sakura could feel her teeth grit and her eyes moisten, as she resisted the urge to dwell on the same haunting thoughts that have become nightly intruders to her sleep. Fortunately, her gloom had no time to escalate when the knocks on the front door distracted her. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, adjusted the burner heat to a low simmer, and proceeded to investigate who was at her doorsteps.

* * *

Currently Gaara found himself in a less than ideal mood. His meeting with the Hokage had concluded later than expected. Thanks to pressure from the Konoha Council stemmed from budgetary concerns, he and Naruto spent a lengthy amount of time revisiting the terms of a joint assistance package to the Land of Rivers. And now, he was late to his scheduled training session with a certain young heiress of the Uchiha clan.

On top of that, the gray clouds looming over the skyline augured what he apprehended was an approaching storm. Having no desire whatsoever to be caught in it, he quickened his steps and in no time arrived at his destination. His plan was a straightforward one: He'd apologize for his tardiness, reschedule the training, and retreat to his lodging for the remainder of the night to shelter from the rain.

"Ah Gaara." Sakura appeared from behind the door to her residence. Per usual, her fashion accessory consisted of an apron with cherry blossom prints.

Before Gaara could even open his mouth, she read his intention and volunteered a slew of information: "Sarada is not here. Her team was assigned a mission on short notice. They left a few hours ago."

"She should be back in two days. I'm sorry you had to make the trip here…" she added meekly.

Rather than feeling inconvenienced, Gaara was relieved that his failure to be punctual hasn't resulted in dismay from any party. He held his hand up, expressing no offense on his part. "It's fine. When Sarada returns, we can resume the training sessions then."

That was simple, Gaara thought. Now he could move on to the last step of his plan.

"Have a good evening." Heels ready to turn, he half-heartedly expected her to reciprocate in a similar manner before he'd take his leave. Instead, what he received was a yelp.

"Wait!"

Sakura easily regained his attention. As though startled by her own outburst, she lowered her volume considerably to a whisper. "Wait…"

He looked at her questionably.

"Why don't you join me for dinner?" she asked, while putting forth her best inviting smile.

"I—" Gaara began articulating his response but was swayed.

Her pleading green eyes seemed to foretell the disappointment that was to come should he decline. He had little resolve to follow through with a rejection. Again, there was no reason; after all, he had no other engagement that evening.

"Sure..." He'd accepted out of practicality, at the very least. The low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. He supposed that he could adjust his plan and hope that by the time supper wrapped up, he'd not only have sated his hunger but also dodged the awful weather.

Somewhat expected, a bright smile found its way to Sakura's face. Without further ado, his host stepped sideways to let him enter.

Before long, Gaara found himself before the dining table within the Uchiha household. Opposite of him on the other side, Sakura was gingerly setting down a stockpot onto the table. Her sparkling eyes traveled to him as she declared almost ceremoniously, "On tonight's menu is beef stew. It's my new recipe!"

"That means, _Kazekage-sama_ , you are going to have to be my guinea pig to try this dish." She grinned.

At the emphasis of his title and her proposition, Gaara cocked his head at her. She was subjecting him to an experiment of her cooking? Her words caused a bit of confidence to escape him.

"If I shall require medical attention after consuming this, I trust that your abilities as a medic will come in handy," he stated, eying her as she ladled _plenty_ into his bowl.

"Hey!" Despite his jest, her playful tone registered no offense on her end. She coolly brushed off his concern with the crinkling of her eyes. "Don't worry. Either way, you are in good hands."

After helping herself with a serving, Sakura took her seat and faced him. She folded her hands and pored over him with obvious anticipation. Gaara brought his attention from her to the filled ceramic vessel before him, assessing the steaming melange of meat and vegetables contained within.

It looked harmless enough.

With his spoon, Gaara slowly swirled a few circles in his bowl and brought a modest amount to his lips. Finding the temperature of the food agreeable, he took in the morsel on his utensil.

"You like it?" Her body leaning closer, Sakura could barely contain her curiosity.

It took a few seconds for him to savor the taste, during which he noticed that her intent eyes never left him. After fully swallowing, he remarked, "It's fairly enjoyable."

Seemingly relieved at his verdict, Sakura let out the breath she'd been holding. She eased back into her chair and focused on her own portion. Digging into her own bowl, she took a bite… and promptly spat, "Oh good lord, it's so spicy!"

Mouth agape, brows furrowed, she fanned at her half-protruded tongue. Her movements were full of exaggeration. Gaara watched amusedly the dramatic act that unfolded before him, while taking in more spoonfuls of stew.

"Why are you still eating it?" She managed out her sentence after a good few minutes. A mixture of amazement and exasperation painted her features.

"Because you made it."

Through his time as a shinobi and a leader of a populous village, Gaara had learned to appreciate works by others who have put efforts in the process. His host's dish, although not the epitome of gastronomy, was no exception. He'd finish it out of gratitude regardless.

His sincere comment must have come unexpected, for the meal's preparer simply blinked at him, then looked away at once. A tinge of pink dusted her cheeks. "You don't have to torture yourself. I know my food is not great. Sarada complains a lot about it."

"If that's the case, I suggest you invest in interests that are supported by your talents."

"Really? My cooking can't be that bad!" At his comment, Sakura met his eyes again and huffed.

"It's adequate. However, given your credentials, I'm certain that your contribution to the field of medical ninjutsu will be far more substantial."

Even though Gaara hasn't perceived Sakura's dish as distasteful as she'd expressed, but to an extent he'd agree with her that her strength did not belong in the culinary arts. He was very well aware of Sakura's notable accomplishments as a medic and a prized pupil of the Godaime Hokage. After all, Gaara had personally witnessed her incredible feats during the war. So it was wholly beneficial that she should pursue and develop those talents, in his opinion.

His audience fell temporarily silent to his advice, her eyes softening just a touch. After some time, she spoke, "I appreciate the recognition... As much as I'd like to make that dedication, sometimes priorities change. Having a family and juggling different responsibilities makes it hard to focus on a career."

Her pensive expression kindled his memories of their previous exchanges, in which sullenness saturated her words and actions.

"This is not the life you want." These frank words fell straight out of his mouth, before he could rethink them.

Gaara wasn't sure what had compelled him to make such an observation so unconditionally. Perhaps it was the discernible wistfulness in her voice, which oddly didn't sit well with him. Though his statement must have struck a sensitive cord within her. Her momentary shock, as made visible by her rounded eyes and parted lips, transformed into an evident state of agitation.

"What do _you_ know about what I want?" Sakura challenged him, matching his gaze evenly with the narrowed set of her own. Vivid emerald orbs clashed with his.

Twice he had been direct with Sakura, Gaara recounted, but she was clearly unappreciative of it this time.

As if corresponding with the rising tension within the atmosphere inside, the sky outside bellowed once more with a crack of thunder. Soon Gaara heard the muffled drumming of the rain against the pavement in the background.

As the Kazekage, Gaara had developed a habit of being candid with others over the years; never one to be roundabout, he'd comment as he saw fit, especially in his business dealings. It was always an art to balance between bluntness and honesty, as he'd learned; and the drawback of it oftentimes involved bruised egos and feelings. Nevertheless, he'd found that his approach has made things more efficient, at the very least.

He'd noticed signs of Sakura's despondency since their encounter a few months ago. He could continue being transparent with her, carrying on the subject so to make her acknowledge her vulnerability and motivate a positive change. But she was not one of his council members, nor his subordinate. She was, by association, a friend. If she were unwilling to explore further a personal topic, he'd respectfully withdraw. Sakura was right: Although he had a slither of idea about what she might need, he didn't know her well enough to be in a position to pass judgment.

Consequently, Gaara thought it appropriate to apologize for his unbidden input. Before he could initiate a retraction, Sakura, on the other hand, broke their stalemate:

"Oh no, the sheets!"

Gasping, his female companion kicked to push her chair back and immediately jumped to her feet. She raced for the patio door of the living room, stumbling over the legs of several furniture pieces as she did so. Once she reached her goal, she slid open the glass door. No longer insulated, the cacophony of the violent patters outside grew unpleasantly loud.

Without any hesitation, Sakura stepped into the dark of the night.

Startled, Gaara beheld the unexplained behavior with wide eyes. Has she gone mad? Over what he said? He had little time to get over his surprise before pulling himself out of his seat and following suit. When he arrived at the exit to the patio seconds later, he saw colors of pink and red outside swaying within the thick curtains of rainfall.

Then the situation became clear to him: Sakura was struggling in her attempt to collect laundry off the clothes line. Her first-floor apartment offered the benefit of extra space in the form of a small backyard, but the open-air design left Sakura unsheltered in the downpour.

Gaara grimaced, knowing what was needed to be done and what he was about to do. Stepping forward, he immediately felt his body recoil at the dreadful sensation of the heavy shower battering his form. Unfortunately, his sand was ineffective against such work of nature. He pressed on nonetheless and joined Sakura by her side.

His height would prove advantageous, for he easily unclipped the clothespins and snatched the dampened fabric off the washing lines. The ordeal was over in a matter of minutes when the last of the bedsheets was cleared off the lines and they were able to retreat into the haven that was the living room.

Gaara wrinkled his nose. He could smell the scent of the rain lingering in his scalp. Liquid drops dripped off the tips of his hair onto his shoulders. He really hated the rain, he reaffirmed. Behind him, Sakura had already closed the patio door. The sound of the storm was muted once more. He rotated toward her, intending to transfer the load of laundry into her arms. It was then he saw the twitch in her lips.

And, Sakura had the nerve… to laugh.

Gaara raised a brow. "I find your humor baffling."

"It's-it's just that… your expression…" Her attempt to stifle her giggles was insufficient.

"Remind me not to extend my assistance to you next time. Not only it's unappreciated, I also always seem to end up dealing with unpleasant consequences." He was miffed, feeling his own usual stoic facade crack.

"Forgive me, _Kazekage-sama_. I know I'm a terrible human being." Sakura wiped away a tear. Her feigned apology undermined any sincerity that she might have even meant to convey.

Regardless, in that moment Gaara decided that her gleeful countenance was much more preferable to the usual sulk she bore. Her melodic laughter must have been infectious, for he felt the corners of his mouth lift. He too chuckled.

Apparently, his mirroring of her mood on open display was enough to put an end to her amusement. At the sight of his relaxed features, she broke eye contact. Red hue tinted her pretty visage. Without facing him, she mumbled, "Wait here. Let me get something to help you dry off."

While Gaara wondered about the abrupt change in her demeanor, Sakura retreated to the inner chambers of her apartment with the bedsheets in her arms, only to reappear later with a set of clean towels. Wordlessly, she handed him a towel.

Blotting and dabbing, both began working on drying themselves. Silence settled between them. Gaara ruffled his hair with his towel, while his mind drifted to the apology he owed her from earlier. However, Sakura was the first to disrupt the silence.

"Hey…" she murmured.

He saw her peering up at him from under the edge of her towel that loosely hung over her head. A few strands of her damp pink hair stuck to her cheekbones, complementing the redness that was still faintly there.

"You are more than welcome to come for dinner anytime, if you'd like." she said softly. "It's… lonely eating by myself."

Gaara paused in his movements, as he considered her proposal, as well as the meaning behind it. Perhaps it took longer than she'd hoped for him to make a commitment, so she tried once more with a demure smile:

"I promise not to try my new recipes on you anymore."

* * *

A/N: Uhh. Finally, some sparks in this chapter. Things will start to pick up pace a little from this point and on, for all those of you who have been impatient for some GaaSaku action. I'm all for a good slow burn, but I don't intend to make this story very long and I don't want the most juicy stuff happening between Gaara and Sakura 10 chapters in is just them talking with each other platonically... ;P

That being said, do expect slower than normal updates for the upcoming month or two, as I'm dealing with a big move (and vacation!). But I will still try to make my bi-weekly updates whenever I can!

In the meanwhile, thank you to all of you who are sticking with my fic. I'm glad that you are enjoying the story. :) Until next time!


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the delayed update! There's still a lot going on for me. All I can say is that I hate moving, ugh.

Apologies in advance for the babbling author's note. I need to add some clarifications before proceeding.

Anyhow... In case you haven't been clued in already from the prologue, yes, this story will involve controversial and disagreeable actions from the main characters. I understand that the topic will be an objectionable one. For a while, this idea stayed in my head until I was finally bold enough to write it. One, because I have reasonable expectation to complete it given the length I planned for it. I didn't want to demotivate myself or disappoint any readers by ambitiously starting something and never finishing, as I've done before. Two, I wanted to address how the Naruto series ended, as well as the problematic/unrealistic relationship of SasuSaku. I want to highlight that actions have consequences—such is the reality of life, and this will be true for the characters in this story. But, let's not forget that this is fanFICTION, so I hope you don't take this stuff too seriously. An open mind is always appreciated. ^^''

Also, having revisited the FF ratings guidelines, I will be officially upgrading the rating of this story to M (cough) in anticipation of future content. There will not be any full-blown lemons, but enough something for your imaginations to take a field trip-so there will be definitely some scenes/language that are not suitable for the kiddies. If anything, I believe the theme itself warrants the rating change. You've been warned. Heh.

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

In time he became more or less a regular at the Uchiha household, as much as opportunities allowed. It wasn't really the food offerings that kept him returning to that familiar table side, where the warm company of the mother and daughter pair replaced his nights of solitude. He'd decided to be open to some variety in his increasingly routinized life. Though he hadn't thought by doing that, he'd discover a sense of normalcy along the way.

This evening after another customary training session and meal, Gaara again found himself an occupant of his habitual spot on the beige couch in the living room of Sakura's residence. Atop the coffee table before him, a cup of sencha that he'd grown to favor and a plate of savory treats awaited his enjoyment. To his side, Sarada chattered on about Boruto's silly antics during her team's recent assignment. In the kitchen, Sakura busied herself with stacking away cleaned dishes. To Gaara, it had become a strange yet pleasant setup, somewhat akin to his visits to his sister's house. The difference here, though, was that he was no longer an onlooker to the familial scene; he was made a participant.

Was this what it would be like to have a family? His thoughts went adrift.

The painful experiences in his youth years had warped his notion of a family. His mother died an untimely death at his birth, his father forsook him, and his siblings feared him. Gradually, the void in him wherein love could fill he brimmed with hatred and contempt. On those nights when the loneliness became too much to bear, he could only find companionship in the insane screams of the tailed beast within him.

Gaara slammed his eyes shut. But he'd been saved from that dark abyss, and he'd never look back. The soft feminine humming brought his concentration from those dismal memories to the slim figure that paced to and fro in the kitchen. He absently stared at the pink-haired woman, as he continued to ponder.

Now in his adult life, he'd redeemed all that was woefully lacking before—the bonds with his brother and sister, with the individuals he befriended, and with the people he's been entrusted to protect. Yet, despite the relationships that he'd established or re-earned, he often spent his nights in his bland office or perched high over the roofs of buildings back in his hometown in an eerily comparable manner as he did in his youth: Alone, and still very much insomniac. Except, he now had his sense of duty—generally in the form of heaps of paperwork—to keep him company.

As the years went by, everyone around him had settled and formed families of their own. It seemed that only he had fallen behind the times. He never minded such fact, nor did he feel any haste to actively pursue a similar engagement. At some point, his unconcern toward such matter had caused his council to intervene by pressuring him into a marital union through political means. Needless to say, things ended disastrously when it was exposed that the whole arrangement helped to serve as a guise for a coup by a conniving advisor. And to add salt to injury, his potential partner had eloped with another man. In the aftermath, not only was Gaara short on one council member; but he was also left in a position where he questioned if he was ever capable of being romantically involved with anyone, much less taking on the role of a husband and father.

But now, he felt a slight change of mind, for the view before him gave him peace; and the experiences he came to share with the residents of this household, although ordinary in one's eyes, gave a degree of satisfaction that he never received from his work. Little by little, he became drawn to the novelty of it all. He felt normal, like he belonged somewhere where there was warmth and comfort, the very things he'd longed for since he was just a child…

Gaara relaxed into his seat. If this were any indication of how he'd feel with a family of his own… perhaps, and just perhaps at some future date he'd entertain this whole idea of "settling down."

"Kazekage-sama?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Gaara shifted his eyes toward to the young girl beside him. Sarada tilted her head at him quizzically, as though wondering if she still had his audience.

"Sarada, you needn't to continue to address me by my formal title." He had finally decided that the form of address was entirely too impersonal in this situation.

The girl furrowed her brows in confusion. Tentatively, she suggested, "Gaara-ojisan then?"

"That works."

Gaara couldn't help but smile when Sarada's whole face lit up.

* * *

She didn't know what had led him to accept her meager offer. Nonetheless, she was grateful that he had willingly answered her implicit call for companionship. Although his visits to Konoha were infrequent and limited to his work requirements, but he would make an effort to stop by more often than not. In the few months that followed, she would find his company at the dinner table comforting. Sometimes, it was only the two of them, their dialogues all encompassing—whether it was sharing memories of the distant past or discussing about village affairs; other times, they were joined by another young member, filling them in with stories of her latest missions or training sessions.

Another day, another meal, another conversation… Sakura was becoming accustomed to their newfound routine and friendship. Tonight, she was again in her favorite spot in the kitchen, engaged in her usual task of drying and sorting the dishes after dinner. Interestingly, she no longer found the chores a bore as she typically did, especially when she had gotten herself an occasional helper—who, in all honesty, was overqualified for the job. She smiled minutely, as she handed a set of clean plates to the red-haired man next to her. Gaara stowed them in their proper place in the cabinet according to her instructions.

Sakura watched his humbling act with guilt. The task was really too beneath the leader of a prominent village. But he had volunteered as a friend, not as the Kazekage, so he said. Apparently, he thought it unfitting to lounge around while she labored the evening away in addition to providing him supper unconditionally. After some polite verbal tug-o-war between both parties, Sakura had settled on a compromise in which she'd give the least tedious thing for Gaara to do.

At some point, Sakura had likened Gaara to Sasuke in his reticence and aloofness, but he'd proven her wrong with his unconventional charisma. He was sophisticated, poised, and candid. He oftentimes articulated little, but his words rang true to the phrase "less is more"; they were always full of substance, especially when the subject matter pertained to politics. Still, there were moments when Sakura realized that there was more to Gaara than what met the eye—when he commented on her mediocre cooking skills with playful jest, when he praised her capabilities as a medic-nin, when he extended his help to her on several occasions such as now… and when he noticed her emotional drought when no one else did.

Above all, she was thankful for the way he mentored and interacted with her daughter. It seemed that Sarada likewise enjoyed his teachings and his visits, though due to another mission she was not currently present to partake in their little routine today.

Sometimes, Sakura wondered if Gaara was even self-aware that he indeed had an empathetic side to him underneath all that apathetic exterior.

"Thank you for dinner."

The rich timbre of her male companion's voice reached Sakura's ears. Thus came the usual cue to Gaara's departure. When he locked his lucid turquoise eyes with hers, she fought hard to suppress the inexplicable rising heat in her cheeks—a weird habit she'd developed lately.

Nonetheless, her smile slipped. Lips set in a hard line, Sakura knew all too well what followed: He'd bid her good night; she'd respond in kind, while managing efforts not to give away any traces of her disappointment. Then she'd be left alone in the entryway, wondering when she'd have his company again, wondering how else she could keep the deafening silence at bay on her own.

Somehow, this was the part of the routine that she came to dread more and more over time. Had she really become so dependent on his presence? She questioned.

Sakura lagged with leaden steps behind Gaara toward the front door to see him out. The back of his tall form filled her vision. That familiar shade of red and maroon began drifting further and further, taken with it the warmth that she'd gotten used to. She faltered.

 _"This is not the life you want."_

Gaara's statement from many evenings ago haunted her still; it was what infested her thoughts when the lonely nights prevented her from a restful slumber.

Sakura glanced over her shoulders. Behind her, the cold and empty apartment tauntingly beckoned for her to join the isolation. The bright lights in the living room could not extinguish the chilling darkness that continued to creep toward her, ready to consume her the split second that front door shuts. All of a sudden, she felt so small and powerless against the dominating loneliness that threatened to latch onto her once again.

Afraid, she whipped her head back to face the front again.

 _Stay._

Her mind pleaded, painfully aware of the long black sleepless hours that awaited her, as well as the restless tossing and turning in the bed that was utterly too big for one person. Desperate, Sakura reached out for the fading figure before her.

She was successful in taking a hold of the corner of Gaara's sleeve, which effectively caused him to stop in his tracks. She didn't afford him enough time to register her actions before she slid her hand up his arm to clutch him by the elbow. Her grip tightening a tad, she swallowed. And ever so gently, she pressed her forehead into his back, between his shoulder blades. It was as she expected, the warmth of his body seeped through the soft fabric of his shirt and concentrated where her skin made contact, invigorating her with a renewed sense of safety and security.

All of Gaara's movements had abruptly ceased. They now stood fixed in the middle of the genkan, quietness surrounding them. Without exchanging any words, Sakura could only imagine what kind of expression he wore then and there—surprise, confusion, annoyance… disgust?

"Is this… okay?" Shamefaced, she thought she'd gamble her chance.

 _Whatever this is._ Sakura nervously drew her lower lip between her teeth, silently praying that her impulsive intrusion into his personal space hadn't upset him. Mentally, she readied herself for his rebuke, just in case; she did fear the worst, that he'd simply walk out of her grasp into the night and never come back. But Gaara remained immobile. At least he hadn't turned around and flailed her away, she thought. So that was a good sign, right?

To Sakura, Gaara's answer took agonizingly long to come. But it was fine, because ultimately it was what she wanted to hear:

"It is."

She felt the slightest nod that accompanied the ghost of a whisper. Relief flooded her, as she released the breath she'd been holding. Sakura closed her eyes in contentment, relishing the regained comfort from Gaara's calming presence. His being there was an effective medication for her, she found… more so than her one-time trial with alcohol or her useless self-encouragements.

As Sakura inhaled, taking in his unique scent in the process, a part of her was wary that maybe she'd overdose on the kindness he'd shown her; and that maybe she was becoming greedy over what he could provide her… as a friend…

Yet, undeterred by that thought, she held on all the same.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

Dinner time today for Gaara was not of the typical that he'd gotten used to as of late: Instead of the modest apartment in a quieter neighborhood, he found himself paying patronage to the bustling Ramen Ichiraku. Instead of the simple yet heartwarming homemade meal, an over-abundant serving of miso ramen was on his menu this evening. And instead of a certain pink-haired woman who'd warmly ask about his day at the table side, he had to field questions from an overly eager manager of the establishment about his dining experience.

"Itadakimasu!" uttered the adolescent beside him, as she snapped a pair of disposable chopsticks into vertical halves.

Nevertheless, Gaara did have the company of a raven-haired genin by the name of Sarada Uchiha. She'd invited him for dinner downtown after their training session today because, as she'd informed him, her mother wouldn't be home in time to welcome them to her cooking. According to the young girl, the medical staff at the Konoha Hospital had requested Sakura to provide consultations on a case concerning a newly admitted patient. And Sakura had left money for her with instructions to dine at a restaurant of her choosing.

Thus Gaara and Sarada now found themselves sitting side by side at the counter that sectioned off the restaurant's open kitchen, their presences effortlessly blending into the busy scene at Ichiraku during its peak hours. Much like the urban transformation that Konoha had undergone, the eatery too had been expanded and renovated. Once a small street-side stall, the property now boasted a much larger seating capacity indoor; the remodeled interiors, along with upgraded furniture, created an appealing ambiance. It'd become a popular destination for the locals and visitors alike to frequent. Said was personally true for Gaara as well. Understandably so, Ichiraku remained one of his preferred stops whenever he was in town. He appreciated that their product stayed authentic throughout, despite the modernization. In addition, the establishment held some of his fondest memories, which involved his best friend enlightening him about his favorite food over two piping hot bowls of the said food. Even after all these years, Gaara was grateful that he could continue the same tradition with Naruto from time to time.

"Mmm!" The young girl next to him openly expressed her delight in her dinner choice.

Gaara smiled, as he watched his companion savored each bite of her food. Sarada was a fast learner, he mused. In their recent training sessions—although far in between at times—he'd focused on remedying her deficiency in precision and speed in long-range combat. Her natural endowments from her lineage easily shone through in their simulated fights. The Uchiha prodigy's exceptional physical prowess and chakra control, coupled with her analytic mind, created a lethal combination to any adversary on the battleground, in addition to allowing her to grasp the training lessons rapidly.

Yet, there was one area where Gaara lacked the expertise to provide guidance: The use of her Sharingan. It was almost disheartening to watch the young Konoha-nin endeavor on her own to fine-tune her doujutsu skills every time. Her father would be the most sensible candidate to coach her in this domain, but his support was long-time missing due to obvious reasons. Regardless, Sarada had taken all of Gaara's teachings from their training sessions to heart and proven herself to be a capable kunoichi with promising potentials. Her goal of becoming the future Hokage was well within reach, Gaara reckoned.

Sarada's uninhibited slurping of the noodles from her bowl had somehow added an appetizing factor to the serving of ramen he was about to consume. Gaara figured he'd better start on his dinner before the noodles soaked to an undesirable state. He brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth and took it in without hesitation. The rich scrumptious broth mercilessly burned his tongue. He forced the hot liquid down so to prevent himself from sputtering it out in an unseemly manner. Grimacing while reaching for the cup of cold water next to his bowl, he wondered how and when he'd become so childishly careless, but realized that he'd neglected to test the temperature of the food absent of Sakura's gentle habitual warning at his ear side—something that he'd grown accustomed to hearing before each meal at the Uchiha household. He didn't think he'd become dependent on someone else for the simplest things.

"Gaara-ojisan, how did you first meet my mom?"

Before Gaara could fall pensive over his latest realization, the black-haired girl beside him had posed mid-eating a conversation starter, one he hadn't anticipated. He folded his arms, as he mentally tried to retrieve the memories that'd supply him the answer to Sarada's question.

It'd been so long, he ruminated. Honestly, he couldn't remember, but their very first encounter must have occurred during their generation's Chuunin Exams in Konohagakure. It was his logical deduction. After all, that was when he'd met one of the individuals that held the most significance in his life, Naruto Uzumaki. Naturally, as part of his jinchuuriki friend's cohort, Sakura must have been alongside the blond; though to Gaara's younger self, her presence was likely overlooked. Outside of his siblings, Naruto had always been Gaara's most memorable and influential person in his adolescence.

A pang of guilt prodded his inside. The thought that he'd paid little mind to Sakura back then made Gaara feel undeserving of the attention, generosity, and kindness she'd come to show him.

"Your parents and Naruto were on the same team. We all participated in the same iteration of the Chuunin Exams about two decades ago." His response lacked specificity, but it was the best Gaara could offer given his inadequate recall.

"Yeah, Nanadaime told me they were all teammates." Sarada echoed the information she was given. She'd ceased her enjoyment of her food and was now perceptibly less cheerful in her demeanor. Staring blankly into her half-filled bowl, she murmured, "Mama doesn't like to talk about the past…"

The girl laid her chopsticks down. Turning her head toward Gaara, she continued, "I think there are things about Papa that she doesn't want me to know. Did he…" she hesitated, "do something bad?"

The child was very intuitive for her age, Gaara decided.

Sasuke had a contentious history. Despite the Uchiha being someone dear to Naruto, Gaara never grew an affinity toward the once self-proclaimed avenger. The Sharingan wielder, so neck-deep in revenge at one time, was a traitor who'd abandoned his village; his status was arguably the equivalent of a missing-nin. He'd also committed several heinous crimes, joined the notorious Akatsuki organization, and was unrepentant of his acts until the very end.

Despite the lengthy list of Sasuke's offenses, his friends—the very ones that he'd left behind in the dust to cope with the consequences of his desertion—readily embraced him with unconditional forgiveness when he finally returned to Konoha to make amends. Gaara, for one, had difficulty in empathizing with the actions by his peers from the Hidden Leaf. But he'd tried to understand, knowing full well about Naruto's boundless devotion to his friends. Aside from Naruto's willingness to pardon Sasuke's checkered past, the clemency that the Konoha Council had shown the raven-haired man was also highly controversial. Though Gaara was not surprised in the least. After the war, Sasuke was the only surviving member of the infamous Uchiha clan. He'd been granted mercy, because after all, individuals with Kekkei Genkai, especially when they were the last of their kind, were assets to any village.

Still, Gaara knew better than to dispute Sasuke's reputation in front of the young Uchiha heiress. "No. Your father saved the world along with Naruto."

Upon his reply, Sarada sighed. "I know. That's what everyone tells me. Nanadaime stayed here in the village though. I don't understand why Papa has to be away all the time."

He could agree with her sentiment, but he wasn't about to add to her downbeat mood. "It must be for good reason."

"Mama said he's on an important mission. But…" Crestfallen, Sarada cast her eyes back down. "I don't need a hero for a dad. I want a dad who's here for me and my mom."

Gaara frowned.

 _Sasuke is an idiot._

Speaking of not having developed a liking toward the Uchiha, what bothered Gaara the most about Sasuke was that the man took lightly of everything that he himself yearned for during his childhood. When he'd resolved to transform his dismal life for the better, Gaara had toiled to gain the respect, acknowledgment, and friendships from all those around him. Sasuke, on the other hand, was handed all these from the very start, but he chose not to treasure what he had… even up until now, as it was apparent. What kind of man would willingly neglect his familial duties and seek purpose in something that concerned not his loved ones? The back of his mind drifted to the scene where he'd found himself smiling in parallel to Sarada and Sakura's joyous laughter in that familiar dining room…—Only a foolish one at that, Gaara conceived. No matter the magnitude of the mission, Sasuke's limited returns to his family over the span of years was unreasonable.

"Gaara-ojisan, do you like my mom?"

Sarada's distinct voice snapped Gaara out of his contemplation. It was a question as innocent as the expression she'd conveyed to him, but he found himself unprepared to give a straight answer; not because of the unexpectedness of Sarada's query, but because of its nature.

It wasn't that he disliked Sakura. No, far from it. It was just that lately he wasn't so sure anymore where his stance was in his ever-growing relationship with the pink-haired woman. And the recent episodes of their interactions only served to tangle his thoughts into knots of confusion, with the way she'd hesitantly rest her head against his back, as well as the way his rigid body curiously welcomed the foreign yet delicate gesture…

Were all of this part of a natural progression en route to a deeper friendship? He felt inane to be asking such a question. He was an isolationist no more; he had friends, and he _knew_ friendships. But out of his friends, not many were female. Even fewer who'd interacted with Gaara the same way Sakura had—actually, none had done exactly what she did, to open up not only her home, but also her mind for him to acquaint with and understand.

If Gaara were to close his eyes, he could easily relive the times when he felt the inundating warmth of her being through the smallest contact where her forehead gently touched his clothed body. Yet it was these seemingly inconsequential moments they shared that was the most meaningful. Underneath the spoken, he'd seen manifestations of her troubled inner self that she so struggled to suppress; he'd become aware of her anxieties to a fair extent. And he was partially confident about the root of the disturbance. After all, Sakura's averse reactions to his mentioning of Sasuke, as well as her avoidance of the name in spite of their expansive conversations, was a telltale sign.

So what if Gaara had granted her a reprieve from her tumultuous emotions for minutes longer than necessary? He'd fulfilled an obligation as a friend to comfort and support his companion in need. _And_ , it just so happened that he preferred to see Sakura smile a bit more radiantly each and every time afterwards.

Hence, at the end of the day, Gaara would chalk up their growing closeness to friendship and settle on a neutral answer to satisfy Sarada's inquisitiveness.

"She is a friend that I'm fond of…" he trailed off.

"I see." Sarada quietly stared into her bowl again, as though taking a moment to absorb his reply. It was another minute before she angled her head toward Gaara and asked, "Gaara-ojisan, you are leaving Konoha tomorrow?"

"Yes, I've concluded my business here for this visit."

"When are you coming back?"

"It's uncertain. I have no travels to Konoha scheduled as of yet."

Sarada's disappointment was made visible through her drooped mouth and knitted brows. Though she'd wiped away her gloom from her face before long. Her deep obsidian eyes locked with his, as she announced, "My birthday and Mama's birthday are coming up next month; March thirty-first and twenty-eight. We usually have one celebration together because the dates are so close… Will you come to the party?"

 _Unlikely._

Gaara held his tongue before he could allow his automatic thought verbalized. It was a truthful answer: Aside from his Kage duties that necessitated his presence in Konoha, he'd traveled to the village only a handful of times for personal reasons in the past few years. Even his trips lately were a bit out of the norm in terms of its higher frequency. Thanks to the efforts drawn up by Konoha and Suna to aid their respective neighboring nations in their joint mission to cultivate and sustain alliances, Gaara had found himself more or less a regular visitor here in the recent months. But now that he'd fulfilled his present work requirements, he had no cause to press him for another visit anytime soon. Additionally, taking into consideration the substantial amount of work that awaited his attention at home, he'd anticipate himself grounded in his office for an unforeseeable future, much less being able to return to Konoha in less than a month's time.

Yet, against his bout of rationale, Gaara offered a more optimistic response: "I will try my best."

"Promise?"

"It's a promise."

* * *

A/N: Womp, no Sakura in this chapter; but worry not, she'll be back in the next! Though I did enjoy Gaara and Sarada's interactions.

Yes, yes, I know, updates are still coming out slow. Please bear with me!

In other more exciting news, I'm calling out to all you GaaSaku lovers out there with regards to a GS fanfic/art exchange event on tumblr that will be happening in December! You can find more information via the link: gaasaku-fanfests dot tumblr dot com. The deadline to sign up is next Friday. I will also post about this on my FFN profile. I urge anyone who's interested to participate and spread the word. This fandom needs more love! 3


	9. Chapter 8

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 8**

* * *

 _"What did you wish for?"_

Sakura stared vacantly at the burnt candles she collected in her palm. The remnants of the chocolate cake on the wax sticks smeared the base of her thumb. She tilted her hand to a slant, letting the candles roll down into the garbage can, before bringing it up to her mouth to lick the bit of icing off of her palm.

The sugary sweetness at the tip of her tongue was not enough to replace the bitterness in her heart. Remembering Ino's knowing expression and playful nudge that coupled her nosy question from earlier, Sakura sulked. It took a good chunk of her willpower not to lash out against her friend's false assumption and let the world know that she'd stopped wishing for _his_ return many, many birthdays ago.

No longer was she the hopeful idiot who'd always diligently recite the same birthday wish year after year. Sakura had turned 34 this year and more of a convert to pessimism. She wasn't going to pray to some deity for intervention to right her grievance. Ultimately, _Sasuke_ was the one who had power and control over his own actions… over the things he chose _not_ to say and over the things he chose _not_ to do. Just what kind of message he was trying to send with all these missed birthdays of his wife and daughter, among other things? A question that begged to be answered on all those nights when she lied awake while her company of doubts and suspicions paid visit at her bedside.

Lips taut, Sakura tried to push these selfish tainting thoughts to the back of her mind, a place where she'd locked her darkest secrets. She refused to give them voice. Tonight was _supposed_ to be a joyous occasion, where her friends gathered at her residence to celebrate her and Sarada's birthdays. Yet, Sakura rejoiced little from the assembly of her peers, especially when their company only served to underline the missing piece in her life.

But, she couldn't blame Hinata for lovingly feeding Naruto a bite of the cake or Ino for affectionately clinging to Sai's side in her presence, all of which were an sight she enviously beheld. Sakura's arms came to circle her sides, hugging herself. Once again, the reserved spot beside her was glaringly empty. Strange, it was when she was surrounded by the most that she felt she was truly alone.

Sakura discarded the last of the used disposable cups. The celebratory crowd had come and gone, taken with it the liveliness that had earlier filled the living space of her small apartment. She shut her eyes. The thought of Sarada's bright smile that accompanied the chorus of the birthday song was her only salvation at the moment to deter her mind from sinking into an abysmal place.

That, or the sound of someone tapping on her front door.

Curiously, Sakura made her way to the entrance of her apartment, but not before noting the lateness of the hour with a cursory scan at the clock on the wall. Had a party guest forgotten their belonging at her place and returned to retrieve it, she wondered? But she hadn't noticed anyone's property left behind during her cleanup, come to think of it. Or maybe it was her amiable, yet too-forgetful-for-his-own-good neighbor who'd gotten locked out and wanted to utilize her patio to gain entrance to his unit? Quite possible, since it wouldn't be the first time. Sakura sighed, as she reached for the doorknob.

But none of her guesses were tangentially correct as the the door opened to reveal a person whose features were so distinct that she thought he'd always steal the spotlight wherever he went: The fiery red tattoo above his left brow bone was the most prominent; next, his eyes, a shade of teal that reminded her of the summertime ocean; then, his blood red hair, slightly ruffled with a few rebellious strays as though he hasn't had the time to comb and gel it down. Sakura found herself actually liking this bit of disorderliness in his usually disciplined look.

Despite her surprise, Sakura smiled widely. Her previous depressing thoughts were instantly shoved to a neglected corner of her head space.

"Gaara. You came."

"Am I too late?" Were her visitor's first words, mixed within a bare hint of breathlessness.

"You missed everyone by… say, about two hours." Her smile remained unwavering to show that she was not at all bothered by his late arrival.

"I apologize," Gaara spoke sincerely, yet a scowl found its way to his face. "Some last-minute requests caused unnecessary delays to my departure from Suna."

"No, not at all, don't apologize. Please come in." Not wishing for her guest to linger any longer on her doorsteps, Sakura was quick to usher him in. As she trailed behind him into the living room, she said, "Sarada told me she invited you."

"You really shouldn't have bothered yourself to come all the way from Suna just for this. It's too much!" In spite of her courteous words, she was more than elated by his presence and wouldn't have wished otherwise.

"It's no bother," Gaara told her, before reaching into his travel pouch and pulling out two boxes. "Here, for you and Sarada. My congratulations to you both."

"What's this?" Sakura blinked. Her focus fell from the man's genuine smile to the square objects, adorned in basic yet elegant wrapping paper, in his hands. The rich red color of the covering attracted her eyes.

"It's customary to gift the celebrating party a token of good wish, is it not?" he asked rhetorically. A trace of amusement danced in his eyes at her confusion.

 _Birthday presents…_ Sakura nodded dumbly, as she extended her arms and accepted his goodwill. Pressing the gifts closer to herself, her lips quivered the slightest before she caught them between her teeth.

His simplest gesture touched her once more.

"Thank you…" She willed away the moisture that was about to inexplicably rim her eyes and smiled again, this time in gratitude. Feeling quite silly over her own sensitiveness, Sakura inwardly steadied herself. She then motioned for Gaara to follow her and quietly led him through the short hallway to Sarada's bedroom. Pausing at the entrance, she signaled to the redhead with her index finger to her lips, to which he nodded in cooperation.

The door to her daughter's bedroom cracked open with a soft click and a gentle push. Sakura poked her head into the dark of the room. The light from the hallway poured from behind her through the opening and illuminated the inside. The blanket hid most of Sarada's body from view. Her chest rose up and down in regular rhythm. Her eyes were closed in the most serene manner, unaffected by the intruding light. Deciding against waking her daughter, Sakura's eyes stayed on the girl's sleeping form for a few seconds longer before pulling the door to a close and making her retreat with her male companion.

"That child sure gives you a lot of trouble, huh," Sakura commented as she and Gaara made their way back into the living room. Thinking about the unfinished baked goods in the kitchen she has yet to put away, she offered to her guest, "Care for some cake?"

"No, thank you," he politely declined.

"We also have cookies and chocolates."

"I'm not keen on sweets."

"Everybody likes sweets!" Sakura exclaimed, feigning playful disbelief. Setting Gaara's gifts down on the coffee table, she asked him, "What do you like then?"

"Gizzards and salted tongue."

"Ah." At Gaara's literal answer, Sakura's brows rose higher. _That's an odd food,_ she thought. Still, she found joy in learning a new fact about her red-haired friend.

Sakura glanced over to the clock. It was late and the birthday party was already done and over with, but the selfish part of her was reluctant to send her guest off. Gaara was here, and she knew how rare the opportunity ever came by. So she'd take advantage of every single minute of it.

Besides, he'd just arrived. It would be rude to have him leave, she reasoned over the more considerate side of her that argued that Gaara could very well be fatigued from his travel and therefore needed to rest. Willingly ignoring the possibility of the latter, Sakura was inclined to let herself enjoy his company a bit longer.

Hoping her companion wasn't too tired just yet, she proposed to him, "Hey, you know what, I think I need to walk off some of that birthday cake. Join me to get some fresh air?"

* * *

The cloudless night sky that loomed above Konohagakure was always a favorite of Sakura's. The pale moon hung in the heavens, a silver beacon for all those who might be lost in the impenetrable darkness. Beneath slept a tranquil city, yet its dazzling lights made it seem very much alive.

Atop of the Hokage Rock, Sakura sighed in wonder at the unobstructed spectacular view that her vintage point provided. She was thankful that this was one of the few nostalgic places that were left undisturbed from the rapid developments that'd metamorphosed the Hidden Leaf. The urban planners had designated this area as a recreational space, which now included walking trails, play grounds, and planted lawns for picnics.

Stretching out her legs, Sakura reclined her back into the wooden bench that she currently occupied with her red-haired companion. Through her peripherals, she peeked at him. He held the same relaxed posture: Hands loosely gathered in his laps, his body leaned against the bench, he quietly gazed into the horizon.

With no one else around, it was a peaceful moment that they both seemed to be relishing.

"Gaara," Sakura eventually spoke up, catching his attention. "I really appreciate it, what you've been doing for Sarada."

 _And me._ This part she wanted to add, yet she omitted. Too shy to admit openly that she'd grown dependent on him.

"I couldn't pass on the food offerings that was tied to my service." A small lift of a corner of Gaara's lips showed his jest.

"Well, I'm glad that you approve of my cooking then." She laughed softly.

"As I said before, it's adequate." He returned in kind.

Shaking her head in humor, Sakura changed the subject. "So what brings you to Konoha this time? More work?"

Gaara turned to her. A smirk appeared on his face, as he answered plainly, "Vacation."

Sakura tilted her head as she blinked, before teasing, "I didn't know that word existed in the vocabulary of a Kage."

"It's needed occasionally for my sanity to stay in tact."

"The paperwork is that bad, huh." She could empathize, having seen firsthand the hellish amount of documents that Tsunade and Naruto struggled through in their daily grind.

"So you understand."

She nodded with mirth. A brief silence passed between them, as she looked heaven bound. Sakura loved the stars, thousands of bright specks that glittered across the black velvet, telling of a promise that there was hope even in the darkest times and places…

At least, that was what her younger naive self used to make believe. Now she no longer felt consoled by the panorama of the brilliant constellations. With a weight on her heart, Sakura began, "Do you…"

His focus stayed on her as she formed the rest of her sentence, "…ever look at some things in your life and wish you can have a do-over?"

She felt his speculative eyes on her, but she refused to face them for fear of her own betraying her innermost thoughts. She was deliberate in guarding her emotions from spilling over; it wasn't a load for him to carry. Still, she wondered if she could find some solace in his wisdom.

"I try not to. It's counter-productive."

His response was straight to the point. Sakura couldn't help but feel disappointed that there was not more to it.

"Hmm… I suppose you are right," she agreed superficially. As sensible as his advice sounded, Sakura knew it was something that, try as she might, she couldn't realistically practice.

As though reading her dissatisfaction with his answer, Gaara decided to elaborate. "When we look to the past at the things we could've said and done, we become stationary. I take my regrets as lessons learned to effect actions that impact the present and the future."

Returning his gaze to the skyline, he stated unequivocally, "I accept the past that's made me who I am, so I can move forward."

"Sabaku no Gaara…" Moved by the determination in his expression, Sakura smiled to herself for the umpteenth time that night. He never ceased to amaze her. "Who would've thought? After all these years, I'd be sitting here talking with you out of all people, the person who'd almost crushed me to death when we were little."

"I beg your pardon?" He was quick to implore her for clarification. Bewilderment was apparent in his tone.

"You don't remember? Shortly after the finals of the Chuunin tests, when…" Sakura stopped herself short, unsure why she'd brought up a memory that would only pain her the more she thought of it.

The abrupt halt in her speech went unnoticed by Gaara, however, as he confessed, "My memory of that period is vague."

"Well, I guess it's just me then. It's hard to forget a near-death experience when you are young," she joked half-heartedly, hoping to diffuse the somberness that she was unwittingly building up.

"I'm sorry." Eyes to the ground, he acted and sounded like a child who'd just gotten admonished. "For hurting you."

His apology was so genuine. Suddenly feeling guilty over broaching the subject, Sakura berated herself on the inside. It was not her intention to fault him. "It's okay, really! I didn't bring it up to make you feel guilty or anything. I'm not holding grudges. I just think it's unbelievable how things have changed."

"You were so mean when we first met you. Look at you now: The Kazekage of the Hidden Sand, admired and respected widely by so many."

"Mean" was too mild a term; it was more like bloodthirsty, but she knew better than to penalize him for an offense long forgiven. Though, given that precise facet about Gaara's past, Sakura didn't think she'd ever get over how much the very man before her has changed and matured… as well as how she'd come to develop a closer friendship with him.

With that thought, she silently and contently studied him. The cool night breeze tousled his lustrous crimson hair against his smooth fair skin. The dark shades that circled his eyes accentuated his iridescent jade irises. The moonlight was kind to his features. Too kind… And so too were the hands of time that had shown their grace by molding his appearance into perfection, boasting their masterpiece through his chiseled cheekbones, well-defined nose, sharp jawline, and flawless skin. The deepened lines on his face added not age to his features but a certain allure associated with his transition from adolescence to adulthood.

Her eyes traced the outline of his profile, greedily drinking in the mystifying sight, one that was now more breathtaking than the star-lit sky.

Funny, she remembered from her last visit to Suna the existence of his fan clubs with massive followings. Sakura now understood why.

" _You really are handsome..._ " In an airy whisper, her thoughts tumbled out unchecked from her brain.

Spellbound and driven by impulse, she reached out.

Her fingertips closed their distance by making a soft landing on the tattoo on his forehead. The feather-like contact had incited an instant reaction out of him, as he turned ever so slightly into her touch. His turquoise eyes bore into hers with puzzlement, which was soon replaced with a display of fascination that only emboldened her to carry on with her daring movements.

Sakura invited herself closer. Her fingers followed the natural curve of his face, and she cupped his cheek. Though his body stilled like a stone statue; his emotions, unmasked through those lucid pools of jade, were of such intensity that enthralled her so deeply that she'd almost forgotten how to breathe.

He sat unmoving, tacitly accepting her exploration with his steadfast gaze. Her focus fell from his eyes to his slightly parted mouth. A magnetizing force, quite unexplainable, pulled her body toward his until she felt his steadily controlled breaths tingled her nose. Without any restraint, she leaned in closer, thirstily drawing on that heightening sensation that was making her insides flutter wildly; an experience so wonderful that she'd never want to come down from riding on that high; a feeling that excited her heart to race so fast that it'd taken her down that memory lane, to the last time that she'd ever felt this way…

 _Sasuke-kun…_

The thought jolted her. Like being forcefully woken from a dream, she batted her eyes to refocus. What greeted her vision was not a pair of mismatched black and violet eyes; in lieu, churning jade eyes drilled into hers from inches away. Sakura promptly froze to her present circumstances. At once she withdrew her hand as though she'd been scalded. Swiftly scooting away, she dispelled their close proximity. Her previously dazed mind, now a racetrack for a dozen incoherent thoughts competing to explain the most compromising position she'd just found herself in with another man…

"I-I…" Sakura panicked, averting her eyes and grappling with her words.

"I am so sorry! I-I have to go!"

With that, she jumped to her feet and fled as fast as her legs could carry her.

* * *

A/N: _Welp_ , I guess it's time to hop off the slow burn train?

Thank you for the abundant support you all have shown me in the last chapter through your reviews, follows, and favs. I enjoyed reading each of your comments, and they help me to move forward with my writing despite all the distractions. I've progressed more than I've ever imagined, and for that, I'm grateful to your encouragements.


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Ughh, couldn't upload the chapter earlier due to FFN being down.

Anyway, I started a new job, which means writing time has sadly been reduced to weekends, when it has to compete with other family obligations. Sigh. I may not be able to update as quickly as I want, but I'll try my best to upload consistently and not let more than a month pass by in between updates. If any of you have questions about my updates or stories, feel free to PM me.

 **Chapter 9**

* * *

The unforgiving throbbing in her head was her body's protest against her consent to yet another restless night. Sleep had eluded her once again, unsurprisingly—but startlingly because of a different reason… a different person. For the first time, she didn't see black in her violent nightly thoughts, but _red_. And those jade eyes, they became tattooed in her mind, enchanting and tormenting her at the same time.

Groaning, Sakura planted her face into her palms, unwilling to relieve the soreness in her temples with a quick fix that she knew all too well as a medic. She wanted the discomfort to stay, to exist as a temporary distraction. But she knew the aches would eventually fade, and she'd be left to confront her rampant emotions colliding all at once. Her thoughts were pulled taut in all directions, hampering her ability to rationalize.

Exasperated, she questioned why she'd said what she said and did what she did. Her more than innocent gestures from the night before replayed in her head like an unending cycle, augmenting her consternation. How did things lead up to this point, from that time she'd coincidentally run into him months ago until last night?

At last, _he_ hasn't done anything wrong; _she_ was the culprit. All he did was to show her a bit of kindness, and she'd let it root in her heart. The bit of attachment toward him that she'd nurtured freely without any discretion had burgeoned into something out of her conscious control. What was it that drew her to him so much so to behave in such an irresponsible way? Admiration? Attraction? Lust? She couldn't afford to harbor these wanton feelings.

No, never, given her role.

She was a wife and a mother, and it was forbidden for her to covet anything different… Still, as a wife and mother, didn't she deserve to be supported and loved? Was it so wrong to want someone to lean on?

Even so, it wasn't something for _him_ to give her, nor for her to ask from _him_. But she did, nonetheless. From the very first time she invited him into her home, she'd unknowingly invited him into a space in her heart.

 _Gaara is a friend._

Sakura painfully reminded herself, her jaw clenched. Or maybe, after what happened last night, _was_ a friend… Although it should be the least of her concerns now given all her underlying issues that were emerging, she couldn't help but worry… worry about what Gaara would think of her now.

"Good morning, Mama." A breezy voice rang in Sakura's ears, as she lifted her face from her hands to see her daughter strolling into the living room.

"Good morning," she imitated, unable to mask her tiredness and bring her morning mood to match her daughter's gaiety. Still, she'd try to muster all her energy into putting up her usual front. Just then, she reckoned it was time to get started with her responsibilities for the day.

"What would you like for breakfast?" Sakura asked, with every intent to push herself to her feet and make her way to the kitchen—welcoming anything to distract her from agonizingly mulling over last night's episode and driving herself to the brink of madness. Her sleep-deprived body refused to let her move from her seat, however.

Sarada had reached her side by the dining table. Instead of answering her question, she read her with concerned eyes. "Are you okay? Is something bothering you?"

"I'm fine, Sarada," she lied with a fake smile, feeling a bit ashamed as she did so. "So for breakfast, is toast okay?"

The young girl's eyebrows rose. She looked not persuaded in the least but decided to let Sakura keep her untold secrets guarded for the time being. "It's okay. I can make it."

Having made the offer, Sarada turned on her heels and moved to the kitchen. Soon the clacking of pots and pans were heard. From her seat, Sakura watched as her daughter worked proficiently on her cooking task. Despite how often they butted heads with each other, there were times when she felt that Sarada, through her words and actions, was the more mature one in the household. _She is growing up fast…_ The thought occurred to Sakura, as the artificial smile she wore evaporated. As for herself, though? She really was the worst mother, she concluded glumly.

"The party last night was great, right?" Over the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing, Sarada chirped.

"Yeah… it was nice," Sakura merely echoed in agreement, without devoting much thought to the subject.

"Too bad Gaara-ojisan couldn't make it…"

The innocuous comment unnerved Sakura at once, and she knew it wasn't because of her daughter's disappointed tone. The aches in her head and heart were about to increase twofold.

A moment of hesitation kept Sakura muted, until she eventually decided that it wouldn't sit well with her to hide the fact. In almost a hushed whisper, she revealed, "He did come…"

"What, really? Why didn't you tell me?" Sarada's reaction was instant. She poked her head over the kitchen counter to look at Sakura squarely. The pitch of her voice raised higher, the subtle note of irritation within was perceivable.

"It was late. You had already slept." Sakura kept her explanation short and simple, not ready to delve deep into the topic.

"By the way, he brought a present for you. It's on the coffee table," she then added and watched her daughter cease all her food prep and sprint from the kitchen to the living room, efficiently covering the short distance between the two locations in under a second.

"So what did you guys do then?" Sarada hummed distractedly, her hands already began their eager work at freeing a gift box out of its wrapping.

"We… we took a walk…" Sakura responded a little weakly. She pursed her lips, knowing full well that her answer was far, far from the whole truth.

"That's it?"

"That's it," she repeated. The smallest vibration in her tone went undetected by the young girl, who was now too busy admiring a set of sleek custom-made steel kunai she uncovered out of the box.

She continued to study Sarada, as the latter was now enthusiastically examining the aesthetics of the brand new weapon in her hands. The sight was enough to make a more natural smile break through the stiff shell of her face, despite the distress that Sakura was trying hard to disguise at the moment. She figured if she set her focus on her daughter, she might just be able to inhibit all her reeling thoughts about a particular red-haired man. But even then, it was only a short-term solution. Soon Sarada would be out and about with her team to tackle their newest assignments. As for herself, Sakura was uneasy about how she'd carry on with her day on her own, and in such an unbalanced state too.

Right now, she needed a distraction more than anything.

 _Brinng, brinng._

The telephone rang as if a call to her prayer. Sakura succeeded in forcing herself to her feet this time around and proceeded to answer the phone. "Hello?"

It took mere seconds before the message conveyed from the other end of the line caused her eyes to widen in shock. With a sense of utmost urgency, Sakura uttered into the receiver:

" _I will be right there!_ "

* * *

To have someone dominate his thoughts when his insomnia haunted his nights was unprecedented. It was strange indeed to break away from his usual routine of inspecting the fine lines in the inter-village treaties, devising a funding strategy for Suna's infrastructure, and so on, while the rest of humanity was wrapped in deep slumber. For the first time, his mind spent the abundant time afforded by his sleepless state obsessing over every word, every movement, and every expression of one sole person. He'd found it utterly troubling and unproductive. Yet, just as much riveting.

 _"You really are handsome."_

Her words ran though his head in loops, rousing him in an alien and unaccustomed way. She was not the first to tell him such, but unlike another, his heart swelled with pride at her compliment as it fed into a sense of vanity that he never knew he actually possessed. Perhaps it had to do with the manner she'd scrutinized him with those passionate green eyes; they penetrated his layer of indifference and made him self-conscious.

"Gaara. Are you listening?"

Barely.

He was currently facing out the open window with one elbow atop the table and his chin against the heel of his palm. He'd been watching the streets where people hustled about their ways, but faceless and nameless moving figures were all his mind registered. His posture gave every indication that whatever latched onto his thoughts at that moment had full control of his concentration.

It was unlike him to dwell on her flattering words. If it weren't for her accompanying actions, he'd daresay that years of sleep deprivation had finally wrecked his mental health enough for him to develop some kind of compulsive disorder, which made him try to make something out of nothing... But it was not nothing, and he was fully cognizant of the way she'd tenderly laid her hand on the side of his face, the way she'd revealed her admiration of him through her unyielding gaze, and the way she'd shifted closer until their breaths mingled…

 _"Gaara."_

At the second and a more vocal attempt for his attention, Gaara rolled his eyes idly toward the blonde woman seated across from him. "Yes, Temari."

"Something on your mind?" she asked, brows knitted.

"No." His toneless reply did not betray his lie, and he managed to mold his expression just as such, undemonstrative.

The frown Temari wore endured, a sign that she was markedly unconvinced by his answer; but she opted not to prowl after him for the truth as she quietly regarded him without any follow-up. An apt decision by his sister, Gaara inwardly approved. After all, they were on the same wavelength that if he'd wanted to volunteer the inner workings of his mind, he'd have shared them in the first place. Now, if only his other sibling were as in tune to his cues and harassed him less, he'd then truly be able to count his blessings.

Temari finally relaxed her forehead and reclined a bit more comfortably against her seat. Her eyes remained on him, as she resumed, "Anyway, as I was saying… I wish you could've given me some heads-up that you were planning to take time off from work. _Not_ that I'm against it—in fact, I think it's great that you are getting a break. It's just that…"

A temporary moment of silence impregnated the air before she continued gingerly, "Are you sure Kankuro's got a good handle on things in Suna?"

"He's perfectly capable. I don't doubt his abilities to manage the village affairs while I'm absent," Gaara advocated for the middle child of the family who was missing in person from their conversation, though the back of his mind involuntarily gravitated toward the mischievous grin his older brother had parted him with as he casually propped his legs over the desk in the Kazekage's office. In spite of his words of confidence, he grimaced, trying to expunge the image of his village going up in flames from his head.

At his reassurance, Temari nodded in support of his judgment albeit without much fervor. "If you say so..."

"So have you decided what you'll be doing for your vacation here?" Taking a sip of her tea, his sister posed yet another question.

"I haven't made specific plans," he said flatly, all the while thinking to himself that his answer reflected just how unusual again it was for him to carve time out of his regimented schedule without much forethought.

Upon close introspection, Gaara admitted that a lot of the things he did lately were uncharacteristic of him. Even this so-called vacation of his, in truth, was a deliberate effort to come to Konoha when he had no other causes to supply him an opportunity for a visit. It was just so he could fulfill a self-imposed obligation he felt toward a certain pair of mother and daughter, for whom he'd apparently developed an affinity. However, in doing so, he'd experienced an unexpected turn of events. After last night, his confusion deepened, and he was never going to get clarity on where his stance was in relation to the older occupant of the Uchiha household.

"You are welcome to stay with us, or drop by more at least," Temari suggested, a small smile brightened her features.

"I appreciate the offer," he thanked her but made no subsequent commitments.

The curve of Temari's lips straightened, and Gaara felt a twinge of guilt jab his conscience at the indication that he'd doused his sister's enthusiasm and her goodwill. When she'd learned about his time away from work, Temari had invited him to a quaint restaurant for lunch, intending to compensate for what she referred to as "quality family time" lost due to their time apart. Instead, Gaara had ungraciously spent the majority of their outing being consumed by none other than his conflicting thoughts about Sakura.

Before Gaara could let loose a sigh of weariness, Temari stole his opportunity and released one of her own, but of resignation. She eventually turned her head away from him to the direction of the streets and assumed the activity of people-watching. His sister had decided to let a companionable silence settle between them until their food arrives at their table, allowing him the liberty to return to his brooding state.

And he was thankful for her being accommodating of his current reluctance for friendly small talks. So he'd take advantage of the freedom she granted him to let those crowding thoughts in his head linger; it wasn't like he could do much of anything else anyway at the moment, he grunted, for his obsessive mind would not permit him otherwise. It wasn't long before memories of the previous night attached to his thoughts like a parasite. When he remembered how Sakura's lips had hovered over his, his insides shuddered.

It was a feeling that excited him _more_ than it should and bothered him _less_ than it should; instead, he found himself intrigued. So now, he was entirely undecided on whether he should be perturbed by this phenomenon or not.

Gaara had spent his younger years alienating people, intentionally and unintentionally. In his adult life, he'd endeavored to make connections with others, as inspired by his dearest friend Naruto. Even so, given that most of his interpersonal interactions were business-based, he'd mostly dealt with everyone with professionalism and a certain measure of emotional detachment that came associated with it.

As for Sakura, she fell out of that category.

Yes, he opened himself to connect with her. In that process, however, he'd gotten close—too close. Now that he was waist-deep in whatever a relationship that they cultivated, he found himself unable to disengage.

Bringing his other elbow on top of the table before him, Gaara pressed his mouth into the knuckles of his jointed hands and closed his eyes. He'd have to be literally blind to miss the overture hinted by her bold and unanticipated move. Was Sakura attracted to him? Did she want "something" between them? The dynamics between them had arguably changed. He could feel the fine line called friendship that provided a degree of separation between them thinning some more.

A seedling of an idea was now sowed in his head, and he was positively triggered. He was wading into an unknown dangerous territory, and he was wary. And he knew this, because? His jaw hardened. Well, because he wasn't so sure if he could've—no, _worse_ , would've stopped her in her venture if she hadn't…

This was wholly inappropriate on another level.

He needed a distraction, Gaara had ultimately concluded. Without his paperwork around to fulfill the job, he'd decided a round—or perhaps, several rounds of meditations was in order to prevent his thoughts from going wayward.

And so, it appeared that he'd indeed found something to do for his vacation just now.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter** **10**

* * *

 _"There was nothing else that could've been done."_

Sakura's fingers quivered as she pinched the brass key. When she finally managed to pinpoint the tip of the metal object to the slit of the lock and insert it in, she wavered. She couldn't bring herself to turn the key, to twist the knob, and to push open the door to the cold, lonely place that was her empty apartment…

 _"You did everything you could, Sakura-senpai. "_

…especially now, more than ever, knowing there was no one there on the other side to catch and embrace her weak and fatigued body. She cast her tired eyes downward to the ground, looking at the doormat without focus.

 _"Such a pity. She was so young."_

They lost someone at the hospital today, a young one that was taken away from this world too soon.

She was also a special case for which Sakura has been providing her consultation. More than that, however, she'd developed a liking toward the child beyond the standard doctor-patient relationship, as did the hospital staff that had cared for her. For Sakura though, the reason was that the girl personally reminded her of her own daughter in many ways: High-spirited, expressive, and tenacious. Despite the rare illness that ravaged her health and tethered her adolescence to the confine of the sterile hospital room, the youth persevered; and her vivacity endured. In the weeks following her admission, the medical team was able to stabilize her condition under Sakura's fastidious guidance.

In spite of all their best efforts, the child's sickness had apparently taken a turn for worse.

When Sakura was urgently called to the scene to respond to the emergency, she could only stand to witness the cruelty of fate win over humanity. When the girl's frail life slipped away before her eyes, Sakura had never felt so hopeless. Stunned, she couldn't walk, couldn't talk, couldn't move for the longest time in the chilling hospital room as everything and everyone continued to buzz around her.

It was when the gut-wrenching wails of the deceased girl's mother shrilled in her ears that Sakura was snapped out of her stupor, only to be devastated again just the same, for she was a mother too and could feel the heartbreak in its rawest form…

Then the worst pang struck her when she felt as though she was responsible for the child's untimely departure from her loving family. Maybe… she thought, maybe, if she'd dedicated more time at the hospital to spearhead case studies or further medical researches, she might have saved her.

Teeth gnashed, grip tightened, Sakura fought to retake control of her emotional state. She couldn't relive this tragic moment. Left on her own, she thought she'd reach her breaking point; she couldn't be alone now, trapped within the isolation of her unoccupied apartment. Decidedly pulling the key out of the lock, Sakura wheeled around and fled from her own home…

Much of her world was a blur for however long it took her to run to her intended stop. It was as if her brain had switched to autopilot. In that moment, there was only one person in her mind, one who could save her from the desolation. She'd seek him out. Not because they were soulmates who understood each other on the deepest levels; really, it was because he was _there_ , physically at the very least, when no one else was—no, none of her oblivious friends, and _especially_ not her ghost of a husband.

When Sakura had come to perceive her surroundings again was when she found herself at a familiar place: The classy lobby of the hotel that she'd dropped by a handful of times before. Though she cared not for the opulent decor, as she sprinted a linear path toward the elevators. She pressed the button on the panel between the elevators almost neurotically, her impatience revealing through her repeated tries. The doors to the cabin couldn't slide open fast enough for Sakura; the instant her slender frame could fit through the opening, she'd slipped inside.

Panting, she automatically reached for the polished buttons. Her risen hand paused mid-air, fingertips mere inches away from the circled numbers but unable to bridge that gap.

Sakura hesitated. Her hazy determination crumbled in a matter of seconds, as the obvious realization knocked some clarity back to her fogged state: She didn't know which floor _he_ was on, much less which room he occupied. In fact, she _never_ did. Sure, she'd walked him back to his hotel a couple of times, but she'd always said her goodbyes at the entrance to the building. The only time she'd ever been to his room was months ago; and even if he was a creature of habit as she'd come to suspect and he'd stuck to his routine accommodation, she never exactly did jot down his room number during her quick getaway from her humiliating mess of a situation.

For all she knew, he could very well be staying with his sister and brother-in-law…

Then, all of a sudden, she felt like she was the biggest idiot on this planet, standing alone in the elevator. Pathetic. Lost. Without any sense of direction or purpose.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Sakura berated herself in frustration, over and over like a broken record. Why did she come here? What was she doing? What did she hope to achieve? The firmness in her footing loosened, as uncertainty and confusion overcame her.

The faint whirring sound of mechanic gears disrupted her daze, and she refocused just in time to see slabs of metallic gray shroud her view of the hotel lobby. Gasping, she realized the doors of the elevator had shut on her, and she was too late to react. The elevator immediately ascended, taking with it a confused rider who had not one clear destination in mind. On the other hand, the machine itself knew where it needed to go, as it arrived at the topmost floor in under a minute. With a pleasant "ding," the doors reopened to free its unwilling passenger.

Ultimately aborting her mission, Sakura had every intention to ride the lift back down. But when she'd discovered an older man standing on the other side of the frame of the elevator cabin, she paused. Her self-consciousness bubbled within her, as Sakura exchanged an awkward stare with him. Eyeing her with a raised brow, the man waited as if fully expecting her to exit.

Directing a half-hearted apologetic smile at him, Sakura robotically stepped out of the lift to make way for the stranger to stride into the compartment. She soon heard the doors of the elevator close behind her, but all she could do was to stare dumbly at the empty hallway of the hotel's penthouse floor before her. And she faltered.

No, she couldn't be here; she should leave. She needed to return to that lonely apartment of hers, where she could wallow in the waves of depression she was used to…

…where, she'd always belonged…

Because she didn't deserve anything else…

And as for the one person whom she'd become more and more reliant on, she thought she could find in him what she couldn't from Sasuke. But even then, what would come of it?

She could _never_ ask from _him_ for love, affection, and support. At that line of thought, she felt immensely foolish and disturbed at her own wistfulness and selfishness.

As Sakura turned to face the closed doors of the elevator again, her vision blurred. A rush of emotions inundated her, and she was floored at once. The little boost of energy she'd derived from her impulsion to help her get to where she wanted drained away instantaneously, and her earlier fatigue caught up with her again—only this time, it was much more profoundly felt.

The hot tears that pooled around her eyes finally burst forth like water from a dam and streamed down the sides of her face uncontrollably.

This time, she no longer had the will or the strength to wipe them away, to deny the existence of the aches in her heart; and she was experiencing the pain in full force. The shoulder, the hand, the voice that were _supposed_ to be there to let her lean on, to hold her, and to tell her everything would be okay had abandoned her. And after all these long years, she just couldn't be her own crutch anymore.

So she cried like a child, robbed of her own happiness. There was no grace in her dissonant sobs and sniffles. Ino had once told her that she was an ugly crier; even so, she didn't hold back. She now could care less about her appearance. Because in this moment, in this unrecognizable hallway, she was alone anyway—like she'd always been, with no one around to ask her what was wrong or to lift her up…

Her trembling finger reached for the elevator button again and pushed it. There was no reason for her to linger in this strange place any longer. As expected, it wasn't too long before the elevator answered her command and returned to her floor. The doors to one opened with the typical "ding."

Mustering some conscious effort, Sakura dragged her feet forward. Fresh tears continued to roll down her cheeks unceasingly. She'd given up. With each labored step, she pushed herself to move toward the elevator cabin, into the emptiness that was about to swallow her and let her wither in her own sorrow.

While in her misery, however, she'd failed to notice an encroaching presence.

" _Sakura_."

Her own name rang so clearly in her ears, effectively causing her to stop in her procession. Someone had called for her. Joined with it was a hand that grabbed her by her shoulder, immediately causing her to spin her head around.

And her eyes widened in surprise at the one behind her.

 _Gaara._

* * *

To him, the thing about practicing meditation was that it made everything too quiet, almost to an unbearable degree; and it could only do so much to purify a mind of its chaotic thoughts, especially when one's heart was as turbulent as the whipping grains in a sandstorm.

With such pervasive silence that encompassed him, he thought he'd be able to hear a pin drop from a mile away; and indeed, he'd picked up on something peculiar through his heightened senses. In the security of his hotel room, he sent out a slither of his sand to probe the disturbance outside. When he'd registered the known chakra signature, he bailed on his self-necessitated meditation session rather effortlessly and proceeded to inspect his surroundings in person… which would result in the unanticipated situation that he'd presently found himself in.

Gaara frowned deeply, as he regarded the female before him with a kind of heaviness on his heart that he couldn't fathom.

Sakura was there. She was crying.

To his surprise, he'd discovered her in the hallway outside of his suite, and in such a distressed state… So he'd led her back to his quarter, which allowed the privacy she needed to sort out her emotions away from public eyes.

She stood rooted to her spot in his living room with her head lowered, unwilling to reveal her face to him as she hid behind her bangs. Her recovering breathes punctured through each hiccup, and her shoulders heaved along with each muffled sob. He could tell, as much she evidently tried to curb her weeping in his company, she was unsuccessful in pacifying the commotions within her.

The crease between Gaara's brows tightened more.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, lightly squeezing with reassurance to prompt her to look at him. His gesture turned out persuasive, as she yielded to his gentle request and gradually brought her head up.

 _What_ _'s the matter?_ He wanted to ask her, but those intended words fizzled right out of his mouth at the sight of her.

And he simply couldn't look away.

Her mask was gone. What confronted him was her truest self underneath—so vulnerable and pitiful, yet the most alluring he'd ever seen. Her glimmering green eyes shone brilliantly, despite the unspoken sadness that resided within. A lone tear spilled from the corner of her eye, grazed her cheek, and trickled down to her chin, drawing his attention to every inch of her perfectly shaped face. Her exotic pastel hair caressed the soft curves of her jawline, enhancing that adoring shade of red that colored her porcelain skin…

Suddenly, he became keenly aware of their circumstances: The two of them, alone, in his room.

The same gripping tension he'd experienced from last night crept back and settled between them. The temptation to explore further what she'd set in motion was mastering him. The seedling of an idea that she'd planted in him had blossomed into what was finally apparent—his attraction to her. When had _she_ managed to crack his steel-like resolve? When had something so dangerous burrowed itself within the depth of his heart, propagating freely without his awareness just in time to burst forth now? He didn't have time to mull over these questions, before his hand had moved on its own accord.

He reached for the side of her face. Instantly, he detected a hint of surprise that flashed through her glassy eyes, but she didn't flinch. His fingers involuntarily followed the wet trails on her cheeks and traced her smooth skin, an action reminiscent of what she did during the previous night. Their roles were now reversed, as she accepted the place of the observer and quietly watched him with her curious emerald eyes.

He could feel her shiver against his risky touches. Time seemed to still, as the intensity in their matching gazes grew. And through her batting long lashes, he saw a surge of emotions oscillating between shock, wonder… and undeniable anticipation, which incited him greatly.

He thumbed her lower jaw and tilted her chin up to present him a better angle of her face. He inhaled a breath of brashness that was unlike him, before bending his head down to catch the salty drops that raced down her one cheek with his lips.

Licking over his upper lip, he tasted her liquid sadness in his mouth as he backed away from her face.

Her eyes went positively round.

When he'd found that his action had stolen her breath out of her, he consciously reined back his growing craving. Tentatively, he asked for permission in an undertone, making a mimicry of her own act from before:

"Is this… okay?"

It was almost unnoticeable, but she indeed nodded minutely.

Her affirmative response was appreciated, though he briefly wondered if it still even mattered, for he felt his impatience was about to carry him away regardless.

He'd finally succumbed to his impulses when, his lips ghosted hers, continuing what she didn't the night before… The innocence in their gestures was long gone. Each second was a push at their increasingly fragile boundary that was their supposed friendship…

Until it splintered.

 _To hell with Sasuke._

With one hand resting below her ear to steady her, he leaned in and delicately closed his lips over hers, lingering just for a few seconds, and pulled away.

Then again, again… and again, each time teasing her seconds longer than before, until he felt her trembling eased. And she'd parted her lips to goad an open-mouthed kiss from him. The world fell away after that.

Her soft lips moved in sync with his, working in equal rhythm. His stomach churned with the most wonderful sensation. Heat flared from where they'd made contact and spread throughout the rest of his being like a fire that'd been lit. The initial saltiness he tasted from her melted away to delightful sweetness. The slightest inhibition that he sensed from her yet controlled movements was the only thing that held back his urges to devour her.

In need of air, they broke apart. He could feel himself smile against the corner of her mouth. It was almost as though his brain and his body have become two separate entities, and the latter now solely functioned on primal instincts. In a breathy whisper, he repeated, "Is this okay?"

He had his own experiment for her. Pushing her pink tresses back, he strayed to her jawline and made his way down her neck, sucking, nibbling, and lapping against her satiny skin—demanding that she divulge the sites of her most sensitive spots.

"Is... _this_ … okay?" Too distracted, he'd grunted the question again with much difficulty. He almost couldn't recognize the husky voice that was actually his.

She replied him but with her hitched breaths. Though, by now, he no longer waited or cared for an answer.

Slowly, he ran his tongue over her jugular. It elicited an immediate reaction from her, as she let loose a moan and slanted her head sideways to offer him more room to explore. At her body's confession, he smirked.

With enough mental efforts, he managed to draw away from her, who'd clutched his arm to protest his retreat and declared her evident objection through a petulant whimper. He remained close though, surveying her tear-stained face, now rosy with vigor. She puffed hotly, her warm breathes tingled his over-sensitized skin, reminding him that he really shouldn't be spending too long away from her kisses. The knowing gaze from her sultry eyes ensnared him. Right then and there, they both knew, that there was only one wish, one desire…

Sliding his hand into hers, he guided her to his bedroom. Soundlessly, she followed him in their doomed path. Upon reaching his bed, he seated her by the edge and gently nudged her down until she was flat on her back and her head sank into the plush pillows. As he moved to hover over her, he took one last good measured look at her.

Suddenly, the little ounce of rationality he didn't think he still possessed tugged at his mind, making one last desperate attempt to warn him that this, in all likelihood, was a _very bad idea_.

But he'd quickly lost himself in those clouded lustful green eyes. When Sakura lifted a hand to cup the nape of his neck, the bit of lucidity that he'd reclaimed vanished all at once. At the slightest urging from the pressure of her hand, Gaara gladly complied and lowered his face down to hers.

* * *

A/N: Ahhh, they went there, nooooo—alright, let's not pretend that y'all didn't see this coming. This chapter sorta marks the halfway point of this fic. I'll be dedicating the next couple of chapters to the characters' reactions and thoughts on the matter, before progressing the plot. So expect a short pause in the storyline, but it's only necessary.

And sorry this update took so long. I had other projects that I had to tackle, and I realized that I really am not a multi-tasker when it comes to writing… I'm traveling for the holidays, so I hope to squeeze in some writing time in between all the family gatherings.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!


	12. Chapter 11

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 11**

* * *

Sakura stirred, emerging out of her cycle of deep sleep. Even with her eyes closed, enough consciousness returned that she began to register her environment through her other senses. A kind of pleasant warmth wrapped around her, so soothing that it was about to lull her into another round of slumber. With each slow inhale, she breathed in an earthy masculine scent that she couldn't quite understand why and how it existed with her in the comfort of her space. Instinctively, she wanted to snuggle closer to the source that gave her such gratifying sensation, but her progressively coherent mind refused, sounding alarms in her head about this unnatural condition:

To be cocooned in such heavenly warmth, it was something that she hasn't woken up to in the longest time…

Groggily, Sakura wondered where she was, like she almost always did after a nap. However, when a shock of red hair on the pillow next to her penetrated through her bleary vision, a sinking feeling began to pour down on her. Despite the slight puffiness that still weighed her eyelids down, it took but a second before she forced her eyes wide open. All desires for sleep gone, she became fully aware that the only things that protected her bare form from the mild chill in the air were the duvet covering her… and the warm body next to her, equally bare.

Her current circumstances shocked her, paralyzed her even. She laid stone-still, as though her brain no longer had the ability to command any movement out of her. Yet, her mind was wild, with all the horrifying thoughts springing up that she could barely contain. She knew exactly where she was, and what had taken place. In her desperate search for emotional support, she'd gotten more than what she'd looked for—or was it more? Because, in the heat of the moment, she was more than a willing participant. Now that the gravity of her horrendous act was catching up with her, her panic grew with the accelerating pace of her heart. All at once, mental images of earlier flooded her head in a way that she couldn't cope.

 _Her initial trepidation was doused out quicker than a candle in torrential rain. Before long, her rapidly brewing frustration over the friction caused by their clothed bodies pushed her to frantically try to unbutton his shirt while struggling to snake herself out of her own. The instant heat from his bare toned torso reminded her just how physically starved she_ _'d been all these lonely years; then, she'd clung to him for dear life like the wretched depraved creature she was…_

Sakura felt sick.

With her eyes on the back of her seemingly asleep partner, she slipped out of the cover as discreetly as she could manage at the present; her gingerly action contradicted the emotional hurricane raging inside her. When she straightened herself to put a foot forward, her steps wobbled as though her legs almost couldn't carry her weight. She wasn't sure if it was because of the bit of soreness in her inner thighs or something else. Doggedly ignoring this frivolous observation, and even more so the very real desire to crawl back into bed to ward off the crisp air her sensitive flesh was now exposed to, Sakura broke into a sprint to the bathroom as soon as she gained a solid footing.

Furiously splashing water from the running faucet against her face, she hoped to clear her mind but to no avail. Beads of water rolled down from her forehead, to her cheeks, to the tip of her chin; they continued down to her chest, streamed to her navel, then south, blending into a sort of stickiness that was there—a remnant of something that Sakura was trying hard not to dwell on. With dread, she lifted her head to see her own reflection. Even the dimness of the room couldn't obscure the fact that she was stark naked. Suddenly, the feeling of déjà vu overtook her, and her breathings became more rapid and shallow. She shut her eyes in her vain effort to ground herself, but it merely exacerbated the assault on her conscience by her fresh memories.

 _Starved and impatient, she contrasted his slow and measured moves by rocking into him with desperation, hungrily seeking out that sensation to bring herself to the climax. He seemed receptive of the signals she was sending him through her insistent movements. He gripped her hips, forcing her still to his mercy. Before she could rebel, he was slamming into her with such speed and force that she was gasping loudly and uncontrollably, forgetting her own name, forgetting who she was. The waves of pleasure and pain wrecked her body in the most blissful way, overwhelming all her senses and rapidly sending her over the edge until—_

Sakura clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the nausea that was about to spill out of her stomach. The vivid recollection contaminated her mind, proof that she was all too sober. For once, she wished there was some alcohol in her system to share the blame of her crime. It was far too wrong, what she'd done. _How could she...!_

Before her panic attack could render her useless, she thought to run, to hide… and to disappear to a place where she could really reflect on the repercussions of her deed. She didn't know where precisely, but in the least, it certainly wouldn't be in the company of the man who she'd just shared bed with. Mustering every gram of mental and physical strength she could still salvage from within, she regulated her breathing and gathered herself just enough to exit the bathroom.

Her flight plan was temporarily foiled when, upon leaving the bathroom, she found herself immediately locking eyes with her now very much awake bedmate across from the room. He was quiet, as he stayed seated on the edge of the bed and kept an unreadable gaze on her. There was still light in the evening sky outside to illuminate the room through the partially drawn curtains, enough to highlight the mystery in his expression. Unable to hold the contact, Sakura dropped her gaze from his face; naturally, her eyes fell downward, to the lean muscles that shaped his body, his firm chest and abdomen, and the duvet that draped loosely around his hips with not much left for imagination. She'd caught herself involuntarily stealing a glimpse of his bold thighs and calves before obligating her focus elsewhere. In the process, her cheeks seared hot with shame and embarrassment.

Sakura willfully turned her head and body. Despite the intimate encounter they've had, she suddenly was too conscious of having him survey her in such an exposed state. She said nothing, as she redirected her attention to the scattered clothes on the floor. She moved with her arms across her front, somehow feeling the need to shield her naked form in whatever way possible from her observer. She beelined from one area to another, miserably collecting her garments and clothing herself. Still, she could sense his eyes stalking her every movement, the intensity of his scrutinizing stare stripping her down from her own skin.

It was already beginning to suffocate her, the thick silence in the atmosphere. The need to address the white elephant in the room was becoming urgent, more than what she was inclined to.

"I, you… we…" Her brittle voice finally produced, but she stumbled over her own sentence. Words had abandoned her, just like her rationality, she thought grimly.

"A-about earlier…" She shakily made a reach for her red top. "I…"

"I- _I don't think I was in the right mind_ ," clutching the fabric, she choked out. She felt like lashing out at herself, felt like beating herself… felt like crying.

Before liquid drops of guilt could drain from her tear ducts, a hand grasped her wrist tightly, stopping her in her motions. Caught off guard, she let out a startled gasp. When Sakura looked up from her half-bent position, Gaara was already in front of her in a similar posture. His seafoam eyes searched her face in an almost predatory fashion that electrified her, their intensity unabated. He was quick to loosen his grip on her, however, as they both rose to full height.

"You were not?" he spoke in a slow and low tone as though chewing on the words.

Her face still burned with heat, she strained to keep her eyes above his mid-section. Taking a step forward, he leaned in closer. She backed a matching step away with uncertainty. His advance continued, and she retreated with an unsteady gait like they were dancing an awkward tango until her back collided with the wall. His tall figure easily towered over her, as she shrank into her corner. Sakura gulped.

"What about now?" Trapping her with a palm against the hard painted surface to the right of her face, Gaara lowered his head to her level. With his lips floating by the shell of her ear, he questioned, "Are you in your right mind?"

She whipped her head to the side, squinting her eyes shut. For the life of her right now, she couldn't comprehend what and why he was asking her, or the unfamiliar way he was behaving. She'd not been in her right mind, she reasoned. Maybe him too? Though, more than anything, she was fearful that he'd feel the vibration of her heart hammering in her ribcage with his muscled body sheer inches away. Her body was communicating its betrayal in response to the magnetizing power of their physical proximity. Once his hot breaths descended upon her warm cheeks, her toes curled in anticipation.

When Sakura had re-opened her eyes, the single thought that came across her mind was whether what she saw in his eyes was mirroring her own: Anticipating and wanting once again—something she dearly hoped that her facial expression wasn't giving away… His relentless gaze was smoldering her in her spot. Sparks of flames leaped within her, and they were setting alight her entire being; a fire flaring up between her legs.

"L-let's just forget about what happened." Her resistance was crumbling like her weak words. It was her last poor attempt at an escape.

But the invitation was already apparent through her body language; and he seemed to read her well, because he'd pressed himself closer.

"Let's..." Dissolving the distance between them, he captured her in an irresistible kiss; and whispered into it a denial to her meaningless plea. "… _not_."

The clothes in Sakura's hand fell to the ground then, as her arms automatically came to tangle around his neck and her body had readily decided for her that she should get lost in his kisses again.

Soon, she could no longer hear the screams in her head over her unrestrained moans. That was when she decided she'd finally lost her goddamn mind…

* * *

The hot water around her swooshed, as Sakura hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. Sitting in her bathtub, she stared unblinkingly at the tub spout, almost hypnotized by the droplets of water leaking from it. The rays of the early morning sun now shone through her bathroom window, bringing about the end of an unthinkable night.

Only a couple of hours earlier, Sakura had woken up for the second time in a strange bed, to the muffled sound of shower behind the closed bathroom door. So she did the only logical thing she knew: She got into her clothes and took off from the place as fast as possible, managing to make her way home surreptitiously while trying to tune out the strong déjà vu that was claiming her once again. This was becoming a pattern with her—inadvertently ending up in _his_ hotel room, waking up in _his_ bed, and quickly fleeing the scene.

It was almost comical, if it weren't for the real magnitude of the situation.

Even in the safety of her own apartment, she felt no comfort. Her head was as painfully full as ever, but she was unable to get rid of the terrible thoughts. All of a sudden, she felt too numb to think. She'd committed the ultimate transgression, not once, but _twice_. Surely, making a count of this was beyond relevant after the first time she'd given in to the temptation. Though truthfully, and deep down she knew, she'd taken that step and breached the boundary long before last night; she was just as guilty then… when, for the first time, she'd found her thoughts drifting to the red-haired man on one of her lonesome nights.

"Mama."

Sakura jerked her head up, her eyes snapping to where the voice started in the direction of the bathroom door. It'd cracked open wide enough for Sarada to peek in.

"Where were you last night? I didn't see you when I got back. Were you at the hospital?" her daughter asked, as she stifled a yawn.

"Ah, um, yeah." Sakura mumbled, her tone withering.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mm-hmm..." To Sarada's question, she replied absently, a feeble nod accompanied her lie—No, everything was not okay. Things couldn't be any more messed up.

A small lift of eyebrow came and went, before Sarada settled for a different question. "By the way, is Gaara-ojisan still around? Do you know how long he's staying?"

At this, Sakura paled. The particular name haunted her more than ever. "I'm not sure..."

The raven-haired girl continued without reservation, "If you see him, can you thank him for the birthday present for me? Can you also ask if he has time to train me?"

Sakura took a careful minute to study her child's face. Her gaze softened at the hopefulness in her expression. She concurred, "Okay."

With a content smile and a click of the door, Sarada left to carry on with her own agenda for the day, oblivious to the emotional unrest that afflicted her mother.

Sakura sighed heavily in her privacy. Placing her chin over her knees again, she inhaled the sweet scent of her favorite vanilla soap on her. The smell of sex was washed away and long gone from her skin. What wasn't so easily erased was the sensation of _his_ hands and lips on various parts of her body; she recalled it, as she grazed her skin with her own fingers, following the invisible trails where the ghost of _his_ touches and kisses lingered. A part of her, a part that her mind was desperately trying to deny, reveled in how refreshed her body felt. It was one thing that she'd—to her surprise—snoozed a good few hours in the presence of her partner, which finally relieved her body of the effects from the sleep deprivation she'd felt lately. It was another to have had an amazing release from all these years of pent-up frustration.

She used to believe that she'd transcended all things physical in her marriage to Sasuke, and that their relationship was of a spiritual one, connected by feelings…

—Oh god, who was she kidding with this crap? Sakura snorted, as she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself; the tenderness in her breasts from the way they'd been kneaded was still felt. If she wanted to practice abstinence, she could've become a nun. The fact that her body had reacted with abandon to Gaara's sensual exploration was confirmation that there were just some things that couldn't be satisfied with a poke to the forehead.

The temperature of the water was becoming tepid. She'd sat in the bath too long, Sakura figured; her fingers and toes have started to wrinkle. Pushing herself out of the bathtub, she wrapped a towel around her body and walked over to the bathroom vanity. She wiped the mist off the mirror. As Sakura regarded the person in the reflection, she saw the same chopped pink hair and the same green eyes… But, she wasn't sure who it was anymore.

There was one thing, though, she could be sure of… That she was fighting a losing battle to her vices, and her conscience couldn't expel the greed that her physical and emotional needs all fed into.

Propelled by this line of thought, she quickly dried herself and changed into a new set of clothes before she found herself at the threshold of her apartment's entrance. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulders. At the empty room inside, Sakura bit out a hard bitter laugh.

If what she did and what she now had in mind to do was a betrayal to her marriage, then who was to say that the kind of abandonment she felt and the years of unfulfilled expectations from the other party wasn't?

Her own twisted logic was her driving force. Then she turned on her heels and stepped out, slamming the front door shut and leaving her guilt behind.

* * *

A/N: Ah, edited this in a hurry to post on time. Will look it over again when I get the time later to make any necessary fixes. Thank you for reading! Next up will be Gaara's POV!


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Woot! I managed to update quicker than usual (pats self on the shoulder). Hmm, I think the next chapter will also be a "self-reflection" sorta chapter for the characters—though not sure if this is the type of thing you guys like to read.

Anyhow, on a separate note... I finally caved (!) and got me a Tumblr account. I plan to use it as a niche for my doodles that are starting to pile up, and maybe writing-related updates? It'll probably be about GaaSaku, mostly. For now I've just uploaded some of the cover arts that I did for my stories; more to come later, as I've got some sketches on the back burner that are waiting to be rendered.

URL is distant-voice dot tumblr dot com. Feel free to check it out or leave me some tips on how to navigate the tumblr-verse, cuz I have no idea what I'm doing lol.

 **Chapter 12**

* * *

He'd wasted much of the morning being what he deemed the most unproductive in all his career, even if he was, _technically_ , on vacation. Lounged slackly in an armchair, he was in the shadowy corner of his quarters. Layers of drapery over the floor-to-ceiling windows prevented the radiance of the sun from brightening the dark ambiance inside; the solemn air within the room corresponded to his dreary mood.

With his elbow propped against the serpentine arm of the chair, he rested his chin over the tight knuckles of his fisted hand. His unfocused gaze landed on the opposite end of the room, at the rumpled sheets that sprawled over the bed that was yet to be made. The unapologetic strays of red hair that he didn't care to tame partially obstructed his vision. The atypical lack of effort in his appearance was of no concern to him presently, for the mayhem in his head was dominating him so much so that he could neglect all else. The somber thoughts bogged him down, and the rationality that eventually reared in the aftermath of an impetuous night jeered at him for his current feelings of conflict.

Gaara narrowed his eyes. The deep line between his brows remained in place, close to becoming permanent. There was a dull pressure in his chest, and he felt the need to exert himself just to direct the steady airflow through his nostrils. Sinking more into his seat, he could hardly shake off the lethargy that overrode his ability to carry out his normal routine.

Still, despite his built-up tenseness, he couldn't negate the fact that his body felt undeniably refreshed. Without discipline, he relived in his head those moments with _her,_ with _Sakura_ writhing underneath him. In the secrecy of their world, he'd gotten to know her intimately. As he'd relaxed into his side of the bed from earlier after a satisfying release, the soporific rhythm of their gradually slowed breathing sedated him. His consciousness drifted, as his eyelids eventually became too cumbersome to stay open. Secured by their entwined limbs, in the warm refuge of his companion, he'd given in to his mortal needs. Surprisingly, he'd slept.

Waking up was not as much a pleasure when he'd found the space beside him empty and cold. Instead, he'd caught his partner fumbling about the room with what seemed like an intention to evade. His watchful eyes hunted her like she was his prey. The images of her barely clad body, her ivory skin, her long legs, and her shapely behind… they stimulated his nerves again, but what'd set off his fuse was the almost purposeful manner in which her eyes raked him from head to toe. Then he'd recalled their shared encounter: Heated, messy, reckless… exhilarating—a dangerous combination of sensations that gave rise to his animal self. Then he was functioning on pure impulse again.

 _"L-let's just forget about what happened."_

Her flimsy words didn't reach him, as he lured her into the trap that was his desire. He couldn't let her simply walk away. No, not after what she'd let him taste.

Shutting his eyes, Gaara tried to exercise restraint on his mutinous thoughts. The cooling shower from a couple of hours ago had helped to clear the haze from his brain, but it was Sakura's eventual departure and the now palpably colder atmosphere she'd left behind that sobered him up. Over the waterfall that cascaded down his body and soaked his skin, he'd sensed her go; and he didn't stop her the second time around. Granted, he wasn't exactly expecting a heart-to-heart conversation, the so-called "pillow talk" that he'd remembered Kankuro bring up in his occasional unsolicited lectures on romance. But the brisk manner in which Sakura had left—without any announcement or acknowledgment—had disenchanted him with the wary notion that, perhaps, she had her misgivings after all about what had taken place between the two of them.

His jaw was set hard, prolonging the stiffness in his facial muscles.

A moment of weakness was enough a jostling reminder to Gaara that, despite being a ruthless former jinchuuriki, despite being an eminent leader of many, he was still human, with his carnal wants—indeed temptable, fallible, and corruptible.

Breathing a long heavy sigh, Gaara reopened his eyes, though they remained downcast. The conflict within him wasn't about to subside anytime soon. His opposing thoughts clashed with one another in his mind. To want or to regret, to indulge or to abstain? So like a living contradiction, he continued to sit, unmoving from his rigid position.

Before Gaara could resign himself to becoming an extension of his chair for the day, a string of knocks sounded on the door to his hotel suite to bring his awareness back to his environment. In his current state, the disruption had irked him more than usual. He ignored it; he wasn't in the mood to deal with the world today, and he hoped that the absence of any answers would make that known to his unanticipated visitor. His irresponsiveness, however, only prompted the one at his door to attempt once more. The unyielding raps that followed was a token of their persistence. Frowning as he shifted ever so slightly in his seat, Gaara was half bent on testing whose steadfastness would prevail in this case. But alas, his patience was wearing thin; and given the riot in his head, he wasn't about to let these incessant knocks worsen his headache.

Suppressing a groan of irritation back down his throat, Gaara extracted himself out of the sanctuary that was his armchair. He made his way past the living room and stalked toward the front entrance. Working the polite indifference into his expression, he reached for the door handle, ready to instruct the housekeeper that there was no need to refresh his room today. However, when he swung the door open mid-knock to reveal the person on the other side, the words that'd been programmed in his head died at the tip of his tongue. And the familiar pink and red colors filled his vision.

On the other side of the threshold, Sakura gaped at him as though mildly startled, her loose fist suspended in the air. Quickly letting her hand retreat to her side, she lowered her head a little to cower from his rather imposing gaze.

Gaara stared openly at the female before him; his surprise barely constrained under his consciously controlled facade. As a result of his bewilderment, silence was what he treated his guest with in the seconds after as they stood robotically facing each other.

"Hi... can I come in?"

Sakura spoke softly, finally taking the initiative in a situation unaccustomed to both.

Gaara canvassed her face for a moment longer, attempting to pick up any hints that might explain the purpose of her return. He'd detected a bit of nervousness from the way her eyes oscillated between him and the floor, but his exceptionally analytic mind had failed to read her intention. It seemed that at this point in time, Sakura was as skilled as he was in putting up an inscrutable front. Though, in his defense, he'd already consumed a great deal of his mental capacity trying to unravel his inner conflicts in the few hours of solitude she'd granted him; he hardly had any scraps of energies left to spare on other extraneous thoughts without striking up a migraine.

Eventually, his initial surprise diminished, giving way to the incomprehensible sting that she'd left him with from her earlier departure. Then he felt inexplicably relieved to the same degree by her re-appearance, yet the uncertainty unsettled him. Given Sakura's sudden arrival now, he hasn't had enough time to reconcile with his own actions and emotions to even begin to think about how they'd move forward from last night. As though he wasn't already conflicted enough…

Gaara hardened his gaze. Maybe she shouldn't be here…

But curiosity was every man's curse. To Gaara, it perhaps was what led him to his downfall in this case.

In response to her request, he turned around and retraced his steps back into the living room, leaving the door ajar and foregoing the social etiquette that dictated a friendlier interaction. He was far too vexed to have any desires for pleasantries. If she was adamant to be there, the unlocked door was her open invitation. It was her call.

The light footsteps that soon trailed behind him, seconded by the click of the door closing, told him that Sakura had made her choice. Gaara centered himself in the room. At his angle, he happened to catch a glance of his unmade bed in the bedroom, before he refocused his attention on his visitor.

With her hands interlocked over her legs, she stood her respectful distance. Her eyes continued to dart around him. At her apparent anxiousness, Gaara loosened the harsh edge in his gaze. This unnatural state of being between them—the tension and the unease—was the consequence of none other than their own doing. And he was no less responsible, even if she was the one who'd sought him out.

The friendship, the boundary… It took only one curious move, one experimental night, for it all to become moot. Was it all worth those fleeting periods of pleasure?

He'd be ignorant to think that things could return to the way they were before, when she used to lavish him with her warm smiles that reminded him of… home.

He felt clamped down with guilt, and he could but let his silence endure. The art of eloquence he'd gained through his profession could not serve him one bit, and he was unable to articulate. He didn't trust his own words, so he yielded the floor to his guest.

When Sakura finally trained her focus on him, Gaara mentally readied himself for what was to come. Would it be an explosive confrontation? Or cutting accusation? He'd had his fair share of fielding both from his political adversaries over the years, but to think that the kind of sharp words would come from the woman before him made his heart clench a fraction. There were scarcely few instances in his life where he was at loss at what to do, and this was one of them.

"Sarada says 'thank you' for the birthday gift, and she wants to know if you'll have some time to train her."

Never mind her stiff tone; her comment couldn't be farther from what he'd imagined that he could only goggle at her, dumbfounded. She dared to hold his stare, seemingly waiting with infinite patience for his reply. His brows creased. The way in which she'd spoken so casually, skirting around the obvious topic, made him question for a second that maybe their encounters were just all a hallucination.

But it couldn't have been. The fact that he knew how she looked under those clothes and how soft her skin felt under his fingers was his validation.

Gaara finally found his voice for that morning, though it came out husky and low. Deliberately, he tried to steer the conversation to the real issue. "Do you wish that I continue the training routine with her while I am here?"

"I..." His rhetoric had effectively put the spotlight back on her, and it caught her by surprise. Sakura stared open-mouthed at him, wordlessly, as she seemed to debate within herself. In the end, she averted her eyes from him and concluded, "I think it's fine with me…"

If he'd read between the fine lines correctly, Gaara suspected that her intention was to dismiss, to "forget about what happened"—after all, those were her exact words in their previous exchange, he recollected. He let his gaze fall downward. Somehow, he had an impulse to refuse. They were speaking in coded language; on the surface, still, the subject of the matter concerned Sarada's training… and it'd be a gross breach to extend the complication between two irresponsible adults to a child.

"Then I shall do as you like," he conceded grimly, with a frown on his face that was starting to be more painful than it should.

If Sakura wanted to pretend… could he? _Would he_?

"A-also..."

She'd started to murmur again. But Gaara was hardly present anymore, getting drowned once more in his own deep confusing thoughts. So Sakura in essence was branding their encounter as a "one-night stand," something he admitted with not even a speck of pride that he was no stranger to. They were tasteless memories from a period of his youth when his renewed earnestness to bond, precariously combined with his hormones, made him susceptible to his older brother's all-too-questionable ventures through some remote unheard-of villages; and no amount of wheedling from Kankuro was going to make him acquiesce that he'd indeed "learned a thing or two" after the fact… But Gaara wasn't anywhere near to want to recall those experiences right now.

In any event, could he really regard what he had with Sakura as a one-off and resume their old routines with a poker face? For what it was worth, having a pretense was always one of his strong suits when it came to playing political mind games…

"…can… can I see you more?"

With Sakura looking askew and her bangs curtaining her eyes, she'd missed how he'd gone wide-eyed at her barely audible question. Gaara whipped his head back in her direction.

It was not so much a request as a confession… An affirmation.

With her dangerous words, she was rocking not only his mind but his emotions back and forth like a ragged sailboat in a sea storm. Gaara laid his intent eyes back on her; gradually, they grew soft at the sight of her: Her right hand rubbed her left arm at the elbow. The beet red shade that tinted her face made her look as lovely as always, and the way she shyly fixated her focus on the floor was endearing. Through her demeanor she'd exhibited her inner struggle, and it was an absolute contrast to her bold question.

The temptation was as deadly as it'd presented itself the first time. It should've been a non-starter. Even at the minimal, he should give this a second thought, Gaara supposed. But, he was already spent from warring with his own mind since the crack of dawn. His impulses jumped at the opportunity to put his weary mind to rest, and his feet moved on their own. Before he knew it, he'd closed the distance between him and Sakura.

That familiar voice of reason in the back of his head, one that was losing power, told him that what they did was a mistake, but it didn't mean that they needed to go down this road…

A little too late for that, he surmised, as the back of his fingers skimmed her flushed cheek, startling Sakura and causing her to look up. There was something delightful about giving in to the lull that fogged up his senses and suspended his brain… Just then he thought he'd caught a glimpse of the lust that was hidden behind those hooded emerald orbs—or perhaps, in reality, it was simply a reflection of his own… He didn't care to tell the difference. At such proximity, the only things left to make impression on his awareness were the sweetness of her scent and the set of two pulsating heartbeats resonating with each other.

Given what he was about to say, what they were about to do… he thought he'd pay the price at an unforeseeable date. _They both would_. But until then—

"Come find me as you please…"

And that alone, was enough permission for her to tiptoe and swiftly plant her lips upon his waiting ones.


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: At **rufnkiddingme** : I couldn't PM you about what you asked, so I'll answer here. Your question actually made me chuckle, because I'd precisely entertained that idea and thought about incorporating it into the story. But I ultimately decided against it; because I didn't want to demonize Sasuke too much, and I also didn't want to justify Sakura's actions.

Sooo I did a GaaSaku drawing, kinda inspired by this chapter (kept it PG-13 though ;P). Feel free to check it out on my Tumblr page; link is in my profile.

 **Chapter 13**

* * *

"You seem to sport a fixation on my hair."

He'd let himself thoroughly enjoy the soothing sensation of fingers embedding themselves in the roots of his messy mane and threading from one end of his scalp to the other, before he lazily cracked his eyes open. To be woken up by an impromptu massage treatment to his head wasn't exactly something Gaara could complain about, nor could he about the sweet fragrance that inundated his senses. For someone who didn't have a particular penchant for sugary treats, the smell sure was intoxicating.

Vanilla, he'd briefly noted before rolling his eyes upward to the culprit who was seemingly trying to claim territory over his head, given the manner her hands moved as though to map out every inch of the area.

"What can I say? Red is my favorite color."

A melodic giggle rang out above his left ear, and he felt the reverberation all the way down through their bodies that relaxed into each other at each curve like perfect puzzle pieces.

With her pink tresses spilled around the frame of her face, the temptress met his eyes and simpered at him, though her hands did not stop in their ministrations. With quiet approval, Gaara let her delicate work continue. When he'd made his trip to Konoha with a half-baked vacation plan, he hasn't thought that he'd be adhering to its purpose, seeing as how he's spent a good portion of his time in bed. And the bed, one that was rarely ever touched before during his previous stays, was in an unkempt state more often than not these days.

For an irredeemable insomniac like him, the surprising couple of hours that he could sleep in her presence every now and then was truly divine. If he'd known a warm body next to him was what he needed to alleviate him of a lifelong ailment, he could've made some kind of arrangement on that front. But he wasn't about to add promiscuity to his lengthening list of sins...

It was never his intention to bed a married woman. And on top of all, the wife of _Sasuke Uchiha_ … No, not when he'd found her in a state of drunkenness that first night; not even when he'd undressed her from her sullied clothes afterwards with the kind of practicality akin to helping an injured comrade in battle, without any wandering from his disciplined eyes.

Yet, it just so happened that this became his circumstances.

Though, somehow, this more glaring problem of her being the Uchiha's mate has hardly made it to the recess of his mind for him to simmer over. And he'd quelled any embers of guilt by taking comfort in the fact that he never did think highly of the raven-haired man. An ingrate, in his mind.

His own councilmen have clashed with him on several occasions over what they'd termed as his "unconventional logic and methods" in several business dealings. True to their recognition, Gaara supposed he'd indeed let his unorthodox way of thinking prevail over the standard ethics held by most from time to time… like now.

So why not enjoy what he and his companion both took pleasure in, consented to?

As he maneuvered himself in his position to allow his eyes feast on the one next to him, brazenly and liberally roving every part of her beauty exposed outside of the sheets, what flooded his brain were earlier images of Sakura biting down on her lower lip with just the right touch of shyness when his nimble fingers worked at the clasp of her bra, and the look of euphoria from her damp and red face when they became connected as one… It came no surprise to him when these errant thoughts caused his core to stir once more.

His plunge into depravity was rather spectacularly quick, Gaara thought.

Still, this acknowledgment did nothing to stop his mind from running astray. She was not the first to lie bare under him, to touch and be touched in the most intimate ways, but he'd found her the most addicting. The way she'd held on to him like her lifeline screamed her undeniable yearning for him, physically. The way she pierced him with those passionate green eyes cried her need for him, emotionally. It fueled what he suspected was the beginning of some kind of obsession. For the first time in his life, he felt he was _needed_ , and in the most urgent sense possible. Not at all like the needs of his siblings or his people required from him. And it was… _inspiring_.

In its own puzzling way, however, this feeling had evoked a realization of his own needs that he'd grown desensitized to as a result of years of devoting to workaholism: A desire for partnership and dependence on another—now that he'd tasted a sample of what it might be like. Though the idea disconcerted him; it plowed at his mind for a painful memory that never faded despite his transformed outlook on life… something that'd started to intrude his thoughts every time he lied awake and studied the sleeping face of his companion in the warmth of her loose embrace.

Inhaling a whiff of that sweet aroma from her that he'd become all too familiar with, he'd used the scent to dull his focus enough to spare his mind from an episode of self-introspection that it was reluctant to engage in. Really, he was never one to procrastinate, but in between relishing Sakura's hands roaming the most sensitive parts of his anatomy and hearing her groaning his name each time, he'd save this as food for thought for another day… perhaps, when he was less distracted.

Mentally taking an account of the number of days remained in his break from work, Gaara had found it uncharacteristic of him to be grudging against his lack of luxury in terms of time.

Regardless, given what was left, he'd better make the most of it. At his debauched thinking, Gaara internally laughed to himself with distaste, yet his hand had already found its resting place below her ear. Finally, Sakura pulled her attention from smoothing out the knots in his hair to his face, her curious eyes searching for a reason; and he gave it to her as he leaned in to cover his mouth over hers, his tongue gliding over the seam of her lips.

Just before his brain spun out of control, he couldn't help but wonder…

How was it that he could be reduced down to someone so primitive, so simple-minded, who'd let his physical urges drive him once again? How was it that _she_ could unlock the bit of darkness that he didn't think still resided in his heart… the greed, the selfishness—the vices he thought he'd purged from years of non-practice?

But when Gaara found himself grinning into their kiss, it was then he remembered… _Oh right_.

That he _never_ was a saint.

* * *

 _"Does he touch you like I do?"_

The sensual voice was low and smooth, resonating deeply in her head, but powerful enough to quake her insides and chill her down to the bones. Her heart pounded in irregular beats, rousing her from her slumber, and her eyes flickered open. While sleep slowly surrendered its possession of her awareness, realization came to her just as the ray of light seeped through the darkness of her vision:

 _Just a dream,_ she thought…

—But a dream that blended into reality.

Sakura breathed in. _His_ scent, a perfect blend of earthy musk and a note of spice, was all around; she smelled it over her sheets, in her hair, on her skin… Nestled in the crook of his neck, she languidly rotated herself to let her hand sprawl across his bare muscled chest. In response, with his arm draped around her shoulders, he ran his fingers up and down the outline of her back, leaving pleasant goosebumps in their wake.

As much as she was ashamed to admit, she'd finally remembered his hotel room number. And from there, it was a slippery slope…

It was unreal, how she could so freely circle her arm around his torso and press herself closer into him, letting his warmth permeate her being. It was unimaginable, how she could abandon all her inhibition and react to him like it was the most natural thing to do, only to have him reciprocate with equal fervor.

And it was all _wrong_. On the other hand, if you'd caught her in those moments when she was happily delirious from her newfound obsession, she'd tell you that the real sin here was how the world could decide that something that felt so good was so wrong?

Eyes becoming glazed, Sakura let herself sink into her thoughts while relishing in the soul-corrupting comfort. How did she even arrive at this point? When she'd woken up in his bed the morning after her drunken venture that one time, never in this lifetime or the next did she think she'd be doing the same thing months down the road, _subtracting alcohol from the equation though_. Oh, the irony here was too strong.

As murky as her mind had been as of late, fragments of her doubts and insecurities managed to surface from time to time. This forbidden closeness, she knew what she gained from it… but, what about _him_?

 _Why?_ Was the first and foremost question that constantly hang loose at the tip of her tongue, but one that was never uttered.

 _Does he like me?_ One more lodged itself in her head.

 _He obviously likes you enough to fu_ _—_ She cut her crude inner voice short. It was an irrelevant question, and she was in _absolutely no position_ to ask. She needed the comfort and companionship, and he gave it to her. He was a means to an end, the cure to her loneliness, and an anchor to ground her emotions. It was simple as that. So why must give it any label?

Still, a part of her begged to differ.

In just a few months' time, Gaara had given her arguably more than Sasuke ever did in more than a decade of their marriage. His company, his support for Sarada, his helping hand… and now _this—_ she was sharing with him the most intimate part of a relationship… the last of which hasn't been a steep learning curve; they'd adjusted to each other well.

There was something to be said about the way he kissed and caressed her before they melted into each other in a hot twisted mess, the way he growled her name in that rich baritone of his when they were caught up in the high, and the way he'd made her feel… _wanted_. Her heart thumped a bit faster right then with blissful ignorance, but her brain always had a streak for over-thinking.

Chewing on her bottom lip to stifle the barrage of questions that were in danger of being let loose, Sakura brought her eyes upward, meeting the shade of jade under the unruly red locks that he rarely took the effort to tame nowadays. There was no point to groom his hair into its usual slick style, she figured, since she'd gotten into the tendency of inadvertently messing it up for him anyway in their activities. She wasn't particularly guilty about it though, for she preferred the look; it reminded her so much of his younger years. That flare of wildness in his appearance was rather attractive.

As Gaara pored over her, his intent expression told her that he'd caught her in the middle of her brooding; and a trace of insistence appeared in his gaze, probing her to unveil her thoughts. Her teeth freed her lip, Sakura opened her mouth. But instead of getting answers to all those buzzing question marks that swarmed her head, she merely asked:

"What about dinner?"

At the thought of food sitting untouched on the dining table, she frowned a little. It was yet another evening in which they easily fell into their dinnertime routine, absent of Sarada. What was vastly different now, of course, was that a light accidental brush of the fingers as she handed him his plate and a knowing look could have them tumbling and fumbling their way into her bedroom.

Dinner has probably gone cold by now, she sighed.

To her question, he dipped lower and found her lips with his, before pulling back and replying with a curve of his mouth, "My hunger is satisfied."

At his odd teasing words, heat spread across her face; her cheeks lit up with a blush that she thought she was really too old for. Just then, she remembered that there was more to him she has yet to learn. If anything, the playful sarcasm that he peppered his comments here and there and the diminishing formality in his speech in private signaled to her that she might just be steps closer to discovering his inner personality beneath that outward shell of impassiveness.

Inwardly, Sakura was made to agree with him: She too was not hungry anymore, for her need—a physical one—was satisfied.

It was apparent that he was more _experienced_ than her, an observation that somewhat surprised her. Not that she was at all knowledgeable about any of Gaara's romantic involvements… Or perhaps it wasn't his experience but the lack thereof from her end that made her hands unsure in their exploration at times; yes, it'd really been _that long_ … Nonetheless, her partner had been accommodating and patient, and she couldn't help but speculate if he's had a history of relationships. Before her thoughts could drift once again, she'd discouraged them from doing so with a head shake to herself. The questions had to cease, because this entire arrangement didn't need to be more than what it was. It _couldn_ _'t_.

Maybe she should clarify some things between them, Sakura mused, lest she be ambushed by all her complicated thoughts and feelings one day. Though with such consideration came the fear that they'd both sober up to their situation more quickly than she wanted… _Than she_ _wanted?_ She grimaced. At this point, she didn't want it to end. Sakura laughed to herself in ridicule. This telltale greed of hers was perhaps what frightened her above all.

The addiction had already done its damage, and the longings ran deep within her veins.

"That's too bad then. I was hoping you'd still have room for dessert." In a fluid motion, Sakura rolled out of her position and straddled herself on top of her bedmate at his hips.

The red-haired man underneath her wiped away the momentary surprise off his face. Playing her game, his hands instinctively came to rest on her thighs and gently stroked her skin. Smirking at her antics, he didn't hesitate to show openness to her suggestion. "Tempting. I can make room, depends on what you have to offer."

The hypnotic glow in his seafoam eyes entranced her, enough to make that pleasant warmth perpetuate in her cheeks. She thought if she just focused on the physical aspect of it all, she might be able to detach herself from any confusing thoughts that shouldn't have their place in her head right now…

Lowering herself down to him until their noses were a bare inch apart, she smiled a coy smile.

…And she'd do anything not to let those thoughts cross her mind.


	15. Chapter 14

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 14**

* * *

"Mama, good morning…" The usual salutation ended with a muffled yawn this morning.

Angling her head in the direction of the teen who'd shuffled into her space, Sakura beamed. As she arranged the ceramic ware on the dining table, she returned her daughter's greeting with a degree of enthusiasm that was rare for this time of the day. "Good morning, my dear!"

"Breakfast is ready. I made your favorite," she announced cheerily, gesturing toward the egg rolls and congee on the table while Sarada slid into her seat. She nodded slowly; her dark eyes rolled lazily to follow Sakura's every movement from under her lids, still drooped with drowsiness.

By the time a couple of egg rolls had disappeared from the serving plate, the sleepiness on Sarada's face had just started to wane, Sakura noticed. In between bites of her food, the young girl seemed to study her with renewed interest. After swallowing a few sips of her porridge, Sarada finally observed, "Mama, you seem to be in a good mood lately."

Mid-chewing, Sakura hummed, "Hmm… Is that right…"

She looked up thoughtfully for a brief moment before her eyes dropped back on the adolescent, and she smiled. "Well, I'm happy because you, my sweetheart, are going to become a Chuunin soon."

"That's…" Sarada deadpanned, as she pointed out, "the exams are almost _a year_ away."

"Yes, but still, it makes me happy to see you working hard for it."

Her daughter's brows only rose closer to her hairline. When her dubious display was simply returned with a wider smile from the other side of the table, she shook her head and relented to working on her meal. Saved for Sakura's light inquiries about the young Uchiha's upcoming assignments, the rest of breakfast was wrapped up in companionable silence.

No later than breakfast was over, Sarada was already in the middle of packing up her gears for the training session with her team. One shoulder leaning against the wall and arms crossed loosely, Sakura occupied the genkan and watched as the raven-haired girl pulled on her sandals.

"Mama," Securing the straps of her shoes, Sarada spoke up, capturing the attention of her quiet observer. "I think…"

Sakura batted her eyes at the girl's back, her curiosity slightly piqued.

"You're happy because Gaara-ojisan is coming for dinner." In that characteristic bright voice of hers, Sarada threw the nonchalant comment so unexpectedly at her that it made her shoulder almost slip from its position.

"Wha—"

"I'm off! See you at dinner!"

Before Sakura could fully digest the youth's words, the latter had bid her goodbye and was halfway out the door faster than she could retort. At the quickly fading dot of Sarada's back, she sighed. As she lingered by the doorway, letting the vibrant rays of the morning sun shower warmth on her form, her mind lingered over her daughter's remark from minutes ago. And she fought with conscious volition the urge to quirk up the edges of her lips; though it ended with her losing.

 _Right_ _… dinner._

With the mental reminder, Sakura determinedly pulled the front door close and withdrew herself inside to prepare and begin on her own tasks for the day.

* * *

She'd done more D-ranked missions in her Genin years than she could count, but none had been as challenging as the current priority on her agenda, a job so simple in its appearance that she'd equated it with a low-class assignment; yet one that was proving to be so difficult that she was having creeping doubts about the likelihood of accomplishing it.

Sakura huffed. Grocery shopping had never given her more headache than now.

The sun was already directly overhead. She'd covered ample ground by visiting a dozen markets and meat stalls from one end of Konoha to another. Yet, the ingredients that she was searching for remained elusive. With every shake of head from the store clerk, Sakura's initial giddiness, brought on by her anticipatory mood and the perfect spring weather, diminished more.

In front of a butcher shop in a neighborhood that she normally didn't frequent, Sakura scanned the unassuming storefront. Nodding to herself and tightening her clutch on the empty tote in her hand, she marched in…

"Yes, I believe we have some in the back. Please wait a moment here while I go and get it."

So close on the verge of giving up, Sakura had found these words from the kind middle-aged man behind the counter like heaven to her ears. With admiring eyes, she beheld him as though she'd found her savior of the day. The butcher gave a small shaky smile before retreating deeper into the shop. Her triumphant expression must have been so intimidatingly fierce that the man sprinted just a little quicker, Sakura noticed and snickered to herself.

"That's quite an interesting item you are getting there."

The steady baritone from behind drew her focus, causing Sakura to turn around in time for a head full of silver to intrude her line of vision.

"Kakashi-sensei," she gasped.

"Yo," the older male greeted with a casual wave of hand.

Her mild surprise dissipated; blossomed in its place, a kind of smile that was reserved for an old friend, the top row of her teeth showing. "It's been some time. How are you?"

"Mm, better than some, I suppose." Kakashi copied her gesture with his eyes; his dark irises disappearing behind the lids that creased into thin arcs. "What about yourself? And Sarada?"

"We are well."

With the vendor yet to return from his quest, Sakura let her attention rest on the only other customer beside her in the small shop—her former teacher, also the Sixth Hokage. Everything about him was so nostalgic. She saw him less often nowadays, but his appearance seemed unaffected by the passage of time between their rendezvous. He was still sporting that iconic gravity-defying hair of his, the slight relaxed slouch in his broad shoulders, and the enigma that was his facial traits known to only a selected few (no, she wasn't one of the lucky ones)—perhaps that was his secret to his ageless look. After all, there was no chance for those wrinkles to expose their wearer's age when more than half of his face was concealed by an opaque mask.

"There's a different air about you."

While Sakura was immersed in her observation of the taller man's features, the subject of her study made known his observation of her verbally. At Kakashi's statement, her forehead lifted.

"Huh? How so?"

"You seem…" A short pause allowed him to pick the right word choice he wanted. "Lively."

Sakura blinked, letting his words soak in. He was the second person to comment on her mood that day. Was she really wearing her emotions on her sleeves, so to speak? Sure, she'd felt her steps lighter these days, found her household chores less of a nuisance, and showed saint-like patience toward the trainees at the hospital who'd been making the same mistakes too consistently to be tolerable. Most of all, her grumpiness from waking up in the morning had been non-existent… although she still had her gripe about rising out of bed and having to separate herself from the protective arms of—

"Sasuke must be coming back."

The name, one that hardly filtered through her mind as of late, sent an unpleasant jolt through Sakura, prematurely snapping her out of her reverie.

"No."

She was fast in rejecting Kakashi's assumption, and rather icily at it too—at least, _his_ return wasn't something that she was aware of… And the most ironic part of all was that such prospect now terrified her when it used to flood her with pure excitement and anticipation.

The smile she wore undid itself, as her expression became overcast with gloom and her supposedly "good mood" deflated. Now that someone had refreshed the significance of that particular name, that particular person, in her life, every dreadful thought threatened to break out of the compartment in her head, the same thoughts that she'd let herself become callous to.

"Oh."

Before the silver-haired man could further any conversation related to the same individual in question, the butcher's re-appearance relieved Sakura of her consternation. As he handed her two packets of what she had requested, the view of the content within the container distracted her from sinking into her earlier bout of anxiety. Her fingers feeling the distinct texture through the tight plastic seal, she gulped.

With their colors and shapes, the unique ingredients looked daunting, more than anything else.

While Sakura apprehensively examined the items in her grip, Kakashi peeked over her and offered his own unsolicited commentary. "I must say, Sakura, I never knew you had an appetite for heavy foods like this. A newly acquired taste, perhaps?"

Following his gaze, she didn't like that his eyes furtively traveled to her abdomen region.

"It's not for me." She swiftly thwarted his suspicion.

"Ah, I see."

When Sakura paid for her grocery and said her goodbye to Kakashi at the butcher shop, her words had come out more clipped than she would've liked. Obviously still irked at the silver-haired man's comments, she didn't appreciate that one thing he was insinuating even though the math wouldn't have added up, given the length of Sasuke's absence from her life.

In truth, however, she was more unnerved by how her former teacher had inadvertently reminded her of the sickening reality of her circumstances, because she couldn't exactly say that the aforementioned probability was zero. Her mood darkened in broad daylight, as she was struck with the horrifying possibility of something that she wouldn't let her mind dwell on. Fortunately, taking the proper preventive measures was without a pinch of difficulty. There was no room for carelessness in her profession, and she wasn't a medic just for show.

As Sakura slowed to a stop in the middle of the busy Konoha streets, she clenched the handles of her tote hard. Looking down into the bag, she frowned.

 _What am I doing?_

This bubbling enthusiasm, this overflowing desire—to do something special for the other person—one that hasn't been reignited until now…

It was telling.

Still. She shouldn't commit to these kinds of acts. _Couldn_ _'t._

And it was these moments of clarity that ached her heart the most. Don't make this more than what it is, that obnoxious voice in the back of her head scorned.

 _I_ _'m not._

She stressed to her inner self with a note of stubbornness that was meant to convince no one else but herself. Shaking off the dark thoughts, she squared her shoulders and strode onward in the direction of her apartment.

* * *

As a medic-nin, Sakura was good with her hands. The ability to perform the most intricate procedures with the utmost precision wasn't something that transferred to her skills in the kitchen, however—something her daughter could witness.

Admittedly she was never great at cooking, but being a mother compelled her. Though today was one of those rare days when a unique sense of motivation pushed her to be as meticulous as she could in her dinner preparation. Drying her washed hands on her apron, she proceeded to rearrange the skewered foods on the plate for the painstaking fifth time. Before she could be fully satisfied with the presentation of the dish, the sound of the unlocking door snatched her concentration from her compulsive act.

"We're back!"

The standard announcement that followed the closing of the front door, a nuanced version this time, rang out in short range, and Sakura found herself seized with an inexplicable case of jitters. Stepping out of her cooking station, she met half-way the duo that'd sauntered into the apartment. A flash of black in the foreground against the crimson that trailed closely behind, and her green eyes immediately flew to the deep red that was her favorite color. And the way the ends of her lips rose was automatic.

Sarada was the first to seat herself at the dining table, her impatience allowing the two grownups in the room to steal a meaningful glance from one another behind her back. The heat that warmed Sakura's cheeks at the sight of the man's subtle smile was embarrassing, but she didn't stop to adjust her mindset before obligating herself to her original task. She ushered the only other standing member to the table and hurried back to the kitchen to transport what was needed for supper.

Dinner was soon presented in its entirety before the company of three in the Uchiha residence. Browsing the filled ceramic ware that lined the top of the table, Sakura made sure there was nothing missing before directing a smile toward the two that sat on the opposite side of her.

"I hope it's to your liking," she said gently.

Eyebrows wiggling, the dark-haired youth seemed to be too busy inspecting the content in her plate to give any acknowledgment to her mother's speech, which was fine, for those words were meant for another anyway.

"What is this?" Sarada finally shifted her eyes from her plate to her mother.

As she answered her daughter's question, Sakura skewed her focus to the red-haired man, whose seafoam eyes on her remained steadfast, just like the blush that wouldn't cool off from her face.

"It's grilled chicken gizzards and cured beef tongue." And she was sure that the color in her cheeks deepened, when the slight surprise from her male companion's expression melted into visible appreciation.

That appreciation, apparently, was not shared all around at the dinner table.

"Ack. You never cook this, Mama."

A squinched face accompanied Sarada's vocal complaint, and Sakura had to assert her authority over the menu of the evening, "We always have the same things. I thought it'd be nice to try something new."

The girl wrinkled her nose, poking at the chunks of organ meat in front of her with unmerited caution. She watched with some combination of fascination and skepticism when the redhead beside her brought a piece to his mouth, and without any hesitation chewed on it. Her doubts displayed for all to see, she asked, "Gaara-ojisan, you like it?"

To Sarada he gave his response, yet his knowing gaze was for Sakura. "I happen to find it quite delectable."

And just like that, delight spread throughout Sakura's face; then she was smiling with everything she got: Her curved mouth, her crinkled dimples, and her arched eyes.

Eyeing the two, Sarada threw her arms in the air in defeat. "Adults…"

The girl's grumble earned her a soft chuckle from Gaara, and Sakura could only look on with contentment at the exchanges between her daughter and the one whose presence at the dinner table was somehow… so fitting.

As she bit into a particular piece with burnt edges, her taste buds found the bitterness of it disagreeable; it was chewier than she expected too. Sakura frowned. But when she saw Gaara's genuine smile at her while he savored the food she made for him, it was enough to make her heart flutter…

It was so wrong.

But it didn't stop her from welcoming the many what-ifs that filled her head.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter came out later than usual. I've been really busy at work/home. Also as we get to the second half of the story, some parts are proving to be very challenging to write!

Anyhow. Can I get any likes for the Kakashi cameo? :) Sorry, Kakashi, this is still a GaaSaku, now shoo!


	16. Chapter 15

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 15**

* * *

"Come in."

The voice from the other side of the door bid her for entrance. Balancing the binders in her arms, Sakura then pushed open the door into the spacious oval room that was the Hokage's office. The clicks of her heels against the ground as she treaded into the space, along with the light bang of the closing door, announced her arrival; but the man behind the desk hasn't lifted his eyes from the documents on his desk to her.

The absence of a greeting didn't bother Sakura. A small smile emerged from her, as she opted to wait patiently for acknowledgment. The view facing her was one too common for her, one she beheld with fondness.

Back bent forward while seated in his chair, the blond man cycled through a pattern of jotting down notes on the margins of his papers, pausing with his eyes squinting at the lines of texts, then scribbling his signatures on the pages. His left palm pressed into his puckered forehead, fingers rubbing against his hairline in rounds and smoothing out the pointy ends of his choppy short mane in the process. Sheets of stationery from the towers of paperwork continued to sift through the space in front of him then to the pile on his right like a systematized assembly line. Amid his concentration, his slouch only deepened, as though a world of responsibilities had borne down on his shoulders.

Feelings of nostalgia washed over Sakura. For one of her most precious persons, this setting perhaps was the most evident part of his growing up, more than how he'd filled out his height and lost every trace of childishness from his features. And to think the man before her was the boy who'd gone around tooting his own horn (maybe rightfully so, even if she was reluctant to admit) about how he'd perfected those perverted jutsu of his—the same boy whose face now had been modeled onto the side of the mountain that overlooked Konoha, in line with the head sculptures of other revered leaders of the past…

"Ah, Sakura-chan! Sorry about—ack!"

The acknowledgment she'd been expecting turned into some dexterity test of sort for the said blond, as he hurried to steady the teetering cup of instant ramen his elbow had bumped while simultaneously swiping his computer keyboard along with some papers out of the impact zone. Successfully preventing a little mishap that was bound to give him headaches later, he released a sigh of relief and angled his face at her. With a sheepish grin, he finished his apology, "Sorry, Sakura-chan…"

"It's alright." Some things never change, Sakura shook her head with mirth and proceeded to lay out the reason for her visit. "Here are the hospital's quarterly reports, Naruto."

Rising from his seat, the beaming blond was quick to her side to help with the weighty stack of binders. Effortlessly transferring the files from her grip onto his desk, he slumped back into his chair and began leafing through the pages of content.

"You don't have to always trouble yourself to deliver these, ya know," Naruto murmured, though sounding more absent by the second as his eyes scanned a particular table of numerical figures.

He was right, and Sakura understood the implication behind his remark. It'd been a topic of occasional debates between the two. After the war, she was in high prospect to become the director of Konoha Hospital. Instead she'd settled for a part-time position with flexible work schedule at the hospital so she could prioritize her family, much to the Nanadaime's sympathetic lament. Naturally, running trivial errands like a messenger between the hospital and the Kage Tower seemed undignified for a shinobi of her rank…

"I know, but I want to…" Sakura replied softly, letting her smile brighten even if it didn't reach the person she'd meant it for. She never minded the legwork, truthfully, for she needed the opportunity to see a dear friend whom she so rarely saw nowadays outside these walls.

Silence soon surrounded her again. The concentrating male so easily delved back into his ritual, and Sakura was content just to watch him a few minutes longer before having to take her leave; and of course, in case he had questions to follow up on the reports. But what'd ensued a turn of page in his perusing was far from related to the subject of the hospital's operations:

"So I heard Sarada's been training with Gaara."

Sakura stiffened. "How—"

The pitch of her voice came out too high to be like her. Lucky for her that the Leaf's leader still had his head down, so she could hide the surprise that washed her face blank. Clearing her throat through a faked cough, she had to ground herself.

"How did you know?" She exuded calmness this time around, but her mouth was set in a tight line at the thought that she was so easily spooked by a comment that didn't necessarily implicate anything. Maybe it just went to show how the consciousness of her moral guilt was ever-present…

"Boruto told me. I hear she's been doing great in their spar sessions."

Finally, the blond wandered his eyes back to her. "How did that arrangement come up? I didn't know you two were close."

 _Oh you have no idea_ _…_ Her inner self sneered, and Sakura had to mentally kick herself for being blithe in this situation.

"It's…" outwardly, she drawled, buying time for her brain to scramble up an acceptable explanation. "…a long story…" She offered lamely.

"Oh? Tell me about it."

She bit the inside of her cheek as the Hokage laced his fingers together in front of him, and he looked as ready as any time for a short break from his work. His perfect sky blue eyes twinkled with fascination, and Sakura internally cursed herself for not bolting earlier and cursed the seemingly infinite amount of attention her friend now invested in her instead of the reports.

At this point in time, Naruto's display told her it was merely curiosity on his part. Whether she should or not, she intended to keep the sentiment that way. The cogs in her head turned faster, just as her heart raced. Each second that the man spent surveying her with wonder was a second too long when she had yet to speak anything intelligible. Mouth gone dry, she was exasperated. That big brain of hers that she was known for, it was miserably failing her in making up a cover story.

"Um…" She consciously pushed the strands of her hair behind her ear as though the action would somehow buffer the creeping awkwardness that was really one-sided.

A couple of knocks came to the door to interrupt the conversation that hasn't, fortunately, gone anywhere. Both heads of pink and gold turned toward the entrance in time to see a subordinate peek in, his tentative glance shifted from Sakura to the head of the village who sat behind the mahogany desk.

"My apologies to disturb you, Hokage-sama, but there's a time-sensitive matter that requires your attention…" By then, the shinobi whose identity was lost on Sakura had slid his full body into the room.

The manner in which the newcomer trailed off was enough for her to look forward to her much needed dismissal from the Hokage's office. It was only a second later when Naruto cued in an apologetic tone, "Sorry, Sakura-chan, looks like we'll have to save the chat for another time."

Nodding simply, Sakura didn't show that she was more than relieved.

* * *

"Good morning, Sakura-san!"

"Morning." Sakura returned the cheerful greeting from the hospital's receptionist. An unceremonious yawn escaped her just then, as she couldn't restrain it.

"You seem tired lately," the young woman behind the counter immediately noted.

"Yeah, a few late-nights, that's all," Sakura admitted, while trying to blink away the tears from her eyes.

As if prompted by her own comment, she took a sip of the warm coffee from the thermo that she'd brought with her from home. Her lips pursed tightly from the bitterness that was yet to leave the tip of her tongue even after the liquid had gone down her throat. She hasn't grown a taste for the particular beverage, but some days it was the necessary fuel to revive her in the early hours. Today she was running on low battery; her morning was preceded by a night when she was kept up long past her reasonable bedtime.

During her nightly rendezvous with her male companion, she'd come to learn that insomnia was a recurring episode for him, though it was hardly an astonishing discovery judging by the appearance of his charcoal-rimmed eyes. Naturally, she insisted her medical expertise upon him. From his part, however, he had other interests to take advantage of his wakefulness than to become her after-hour patient. When his hands began doing wonderful things again and his kisses weakened her, her dismay at his apathy toward his condition was only fleeting before she willingly played into the plans he had for the both of them…

So yes, she was just as to blame for contributing to her own fatigue. And having to rush home on days like this before her absence was noticed and getting breakfast on the table was challenging; when added all up it was proven to be a tad too much for her body to want to cooperate.

"Take care of yourself, Sakura-san."

The friendly voice dragged Sakura out of her thoughts, and she smiled gratefully at her junior. "Thanks, I will."

After bidding a good day for the staff at the front desk, Sakura started on her path down the hallway to the lab. Reaching only a short distance away from the main reception, her feet braked. Her brain recalled in that moment that she needed to check with the receptionists if there were any messages from the Hokage's office regarding the reports she'd delivered the other day. Sighing at her own forgetfulness, she turned to retrace her steps back to the lobby; but no sooner did she make it around the corner to the reception area, she wished that she hasn't…

"Hey, did you hear? Sakura-san is secretly seeing the Kazekage."

The whisperings, so scandalous in their nature, caused Sakura to jerk to a halt. And her first instinct was to duck her body behind the wall. Her back pressed against the hard surface, her head craned in an uncomfortable angle, she strained to catch the words not meant for her hearing; ironically going against her general aversion to eavesdropping.

"What? _The_ _Kazekage_? Of Sunagakure?"

In her still form her heart sped faster, incensed by feelings crossing between nervousness, worry, and exasperation.

"That's absurd," another exclaimed, disbelief in her tone.

"Well, you heard her. She's been having 'late nights.' With her husband always away, I wouldn't be surprised." Along with a sly giggle, the same voice that'd greeted Sakura earlier turned conspiratory.

"Don't say such inappropriate things…" the young assistant's peer chided, but Sakura couldn't bring herself to be thankful that the other showed more restraint in feeding material into the topic. Her grip on her coffee bottle tightened, knuckles turning white. With her little tolerance for the whole "talking behind one's back" business, Sakura was close to give in to her urge to stomp over and give the receptionists a lecture or two.

Unable to will her legs to move, however, she remained in her spot. She couldn't settle on a resolute action, as she thought about what she would say to her accusers. So she could only continue to stay silent and still, even long after the chattering between the women had digressed from the gossip of the day to the up-and-coming actor in a recent popular soap opera.

In the face of these rumors, she'd become non-confrontational. Sakura fell sullen, finally peeling herself from the wall and relenting to just walking away.

How could she deny it? How could she do so with any ounce of righteousness… when it was all indeed her reality?

* * *

Hot lips caressed her from her cheek down to her collarbone, and her brain fogged up. Right now, she wished nothing more than to immerse herself in the passionate moment that was pure emotions, no thinking. Yet, in the next minute, her head cleared up to the uneasy recollection of an earlier event in the day. And just like this, her senses alternated through tides of extremes: A kiss, fiery and demanding, meant blissful oblivion; and a look at the man sharing space under her blanket, redheaded and teal-eyed, brought about alarming awareness that'd always hung around within her subconscious.

Sakura couldn't figure out whether the loving ministrations from her partner were distracting her from her pestering thoughts, or the latter ones were distracting her from getting her fill of instant gratification. To keep balancing herself between her physical satisfaction and mental stress was bound to be unhealthy, and she thought she ought to preserve her sanity.

It wasn't something she wanted to address, but she was often a prisoner to her worrisome tendency. Given the choices between keeping quiet and voicing out, the second option was probably the lesser of the two evils, especially if there was a chance that the other person could assuage her anxiousness. So Sakura took the opportunity when her lips were freed to make her concerns known.

"I overheard rumors about us from the hospital staff…" Mentally detaching herself from the physical interaction for a second, she spoke up to reference the incident from the morning. Her awkward voice was representative of her lack of readiness to talk about the issue at hand. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling, as she became absorbed in her own question. "…where do you think they got it from? I thought we were being careful…"

She wasn't sure if it was because her head was too occupied with going over every possible slip-up she might have committed to become the latest prey of the town's rumormongers, or just the sheer unexpectedness of what her addressee muttered, it took her a couple of unsure blinks before she could finally register his flippant response:

"Let them talk. I don't care."

Sakura had to meet him squarely in the eyes to make sure he'd meant what he so casually said, but she wasn't given the time to see into the state of mind behind those infuriatingly alluring jade orbs before she was muffled with his warm mouth. "But—mmm…"

Impatience seemed to lace his words and movements, and Sakura wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he was leaving in the morning to return to his home, one that was thousands of miles away beyond the horizon, in the vast desert that stretched between the ends of the Land of Wind.

And heaven knew when she'd be able to see him the next time…

"At least it will help quell the rumors about me being asexual." He'd delivered another blasé remark before moving away from her face and deciding that her neckline needed his attention.

The double take from her was inevitable, as she was caught off-guard by what she could only assume was his atypical humor, which was sometimes at odds with her perception of him.

 _What?_ The desire for more details was strong; given that sort of statement, there had to be an undoubtedly entertaining story somewhere. But Sakura squashed the temptation to ask, not wanting to get them off on a tangent. It was already hard enough to concentrate, with the way he was ravaging that sensitive spot of hers below the jaw…

With clenched teeth and an insistent nudge against his chest, Sakura created a few inches of gap between them. "Gaara, I'm being serious! What if we are found out?"

"So what," his momentarily quizzical gaze boring into hers, Gaara said simply.

" _So what?_ " _Is he kidding?_

Sakura pinched her brows together, and her expression fell flat while she tried to justify her cause for worry. "For one, you are the Kazekage, and I'm…" She found herself unable to touch on the unspoken taboo.

Remaining separated and unmoving, the redhead above her decided to respect the distance she'd put in between them, and apparently as well as the apprehension she'd confided in him. A slow sigh escaped from him, one that made her feel like all the passions had been doused out.

Quietly but determinedly, Gaara shared his perspective: "Sakura, I'm no stranger to ridicules…"

Ignoring the rueful frown that sprang up from her, he persisted, "But had I based my every decision at the pleasure of others, I wouldn't amount to what I am now, this I can attest to you. My life is mine alone to lead; I do not owe my actions to those who knew not my experiences or my struggles yet chose to pass judgments at their leisure."

And the recipient of his impromptu speech could only goggle, overtaken by the kind of insight that'd reduced her to a silly school girl who was overly concerned about her reputation. Once again, his maturity was beyond her. Although true might his words be as general life advice, Sakura wasn't sure they were exactly applicable to their situation, at least not from where she was coming from. But she thought she could see what he was trying to convey:

 _What we have, **they** don_ _'t understand…_

"Yeah, but…"

 ** _I_** _don_ _'t understand…_

The rumors weren't the underlying problem, really. She needed to scratch deeper if she wanted to get to the core of the issue…

"Do you want us to stop?"

Sakura hasn't realized she'd lost her focus from her companion until her eyes snapped back to him to catch a hint of what looked like sobering in those jade pools. Along with his question, the hand that was deliberately hiking up her thigh stopped in its advance.

"N-no." Abashedly, she shook her head.

In the same instant, she cringed to herself. Not even a pause for consideration to her answer, and she had to think if her pride was a casualty of making her misdeeds a habit.

"Tell me what you want then," he trailed with another demand. The increasing seriousness in his tone was not missed.

Sakura swayed. Her over-thinking was ruining the moment, and she needed to get them back to it.

There was so much she wanted… In this moment, however, to the one who indulged her in all her wicked wants, she could ask but one thing…

"Make me feel good," she breathed out heavy and low, her nerves heightened from how his fingertips stalled at the hem of her underwear that was sticking, yet to leave it alone.

So she chose to lead with her forwardness in these few instances. At her blunt command, Gaara parted his lips slightly, showing indeed that this wasn't a response he'd expected. His glacial eyes met hers in a brief open stare before a glint swirled through the blue-green hue.

"As you wish..." As powerful a man he was, before her, he submitted.

One look at his now hooded eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Sakura swallowed thickly, when the fingers at her waist tugged the band of her panties downward and the body covering her began to drift southbound, his unbroken gaze enthralling her as did his slow tantalizing descent to her lower half.

She spasmed at the first contact, wet warmth worming into dripping heat, and she could no longer keep focus on the head of red nestled between her legs. Falling into the sensation that was taking over, she was convinced that there was no use talking about it, no point drawing the line...

Tonight.

For their now was a given, and the consequences of tomorrow were only in her head.

* * *

A/N: I'm shameless. So a smudge of NaruSaku here, I guess (?), if you squint hard enough and maybe even tilt your screen sideways lol. :P

The last part of this chapter is a tribute to The Chainsmokers' song Side Effects, which was on repeat during my writing session; which, incidentally, also made me end this chapter on a slightly different note than was originally intended.


	17. Chapter 16

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 16**

* * *

When he spotted Temari in the company of a stiff-standing male Leaf-nin—the latter presumably his escort for his visit this time—by the gates of Konohagakure, Gaara had the intuition that it wasn't pure coincidence. Arms folded before her, feet tight in a firm stance, his sister anchored herself with a perceptible sense of entitlement beside the other shinobi. Carrying an air of her characteristic aplomb, she dwarfed the man somehow even with her shorter stature.

Gaara's speculation over his sister's purposeful welcome was partly confirmed, when she offered to escort him to his accommodation. Given her tone, it was apparent that there was no room for disagreement from the other Konoha-nin, or himself for that matter. He was sure that his sister was only one stern look away from convincing the younger man, whose posture now seemed to have gone more rigid. But the Hokage's subordinate, commendably a strict adherer to his superior's order, was as adamant in fulfilling his given task. One irate twitch of the blonde woman's eye was all Gaara needed before stepping in and using his status to temporarily dismiss his assigned attendant.

Then he had to speculate no further about sister's motive when, after a swap of general pleasantries, she monopolized their conversation with a topic of her choosing:

"Is it necessary that you be here in person for the preliminary discussions about co-sponsoring the Chuunin Exams? All the other Kage have sent an envoy instead for talks this early-stage."

Their footfalls progressed in matching pace, yet his considerate glance strayed sideways to the blonde. She'd phrased her suspicion discreetly, but the signal she was sending was strong on his radar.

"I see no benefit for a surrogate to the roundtable, when my personal attendance would streamline the flow of crucial information." His footsteps firm and onward, Gaara was fluent in his reasoning. "And should decisions be made concerning Suna's requirements for the sponsorship, I stand ready in my position to finalize commitments at the outset, further eliminating the redundancy of an approval process otherwise."

His argument notwithstanding, the unassailable confidence in his voice alone routinely compelled his listeners to conviction—a skill unsurprising given his repertoire of acquired talents. He was, after all, the Kazekage.

To his explanation, Temari had no counter. Her pretext crumbled, as she resorted to having a modicum of transparency in vocalizing her true sentiment.

"Gaara, you've been coming to Konoha a lot lately…" she started but was quick to blunt her statement with what sounded like reasonable concern, "It's not that I don't appreciate the opportunities to see you more, but you being frequently away from Suna and leaving Kankuro in charge is not ideal."

Beneath all the pretense, Gaara understood the message very well. And it was his intention to prevent the suspicion from growing to certainty.

"So I should minimize my presence here..." With the right touch of feigned accusation in his tone, he could easily distract her from her efforts. "—is what I'm hearing from my sister."

His tactic worked, as his older sibling frowned immediately. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm happy that you are here, really I am. I just…"

"Don't underestimate Kankuro's propensity for leadership." Gaara steered their conversation off-course. "The advisors have sung praises about how he's been shepherding the process to restructure several of our internal administrative divisions."

"Really? _Our Kankuro?_ "

His comment was met with a kind of incredulity that gave him the urge to chuckle. Perhaps a homecoming for Temari was overdue. As Gaara's stand-in during his absence, Kankuro has merited recognition for his adept handling of Suna's affairs. Despite all his outward grumbles, the middle child of the family readily assumed the mantle as the Kazekage's deputy. It was evident in his endeavors that his instinct for innovation and the empowerment of others was steadily manifesting.

"Indeed."

His sister was left broodingly quiet then, and he decided to join the silence as he briefly retired himself to the compass of his mind. Temari nonetheless had raised a valid point about his recurrent withdrawals from his role. Yes, it was unbecoming of him to shirk his official responsibilities for... personal pleasures. However, along with the post-war peace that the great shinobi nations have achieved, his work has truly turned mundane. He'd contend that his arguably _occasional_ absences have not imparted any negative effects on the day-to-day operations of his government.

On the other hand, what he'd gained in exchange from his time in Konoha was significant, for he'd found sanctuary from the sense of loneliness that was now more and more profoundly felt on those nights when he sat in his solitude surrounded by the walls of his soulless office back at home...

"Come over for dinner?" The sudden invitation pulled Gaara out of his thoughts in time to see the smile that curled Temari's lips.

"I have other commitments this evening, I'm afraid."

"Oh? What is it?" The smile she wore was on the verge of expiring, as a hint of skepticism threatened to veil her expression.

"A simple personal obligation is all," he replied cursorily. Then along with a lift of the corners of his mouth, he offered, "But I hope you don't mind having me for tea in lieu."

Her teal eyes fluttered a few blinks before they finally arched. "Not at all."

So Gaara watched as Temari marched on with renewed vigor in her gait. Lagging by a step behind her, he fell reticent. It might have been a little manipulative on his part, with the manner in which he'd mitigated and deflected Temari's suspicion over his increasing visits to Konoha; but it wasn't exactly a deliberate attempt to conceal. He simply preferred to restrict his communication of information, professional or personal, to a need-to-know basis.

And in the case of his undisclosed liaison with Sakura, there was certainly no need for his sister to know.

* * *

Her feet were almost floating, as she practically skipped along the hallways of the Hokage Tower and greeted everyone she passed by. She was childishly happy, overflown with the joy that she'd been recently rescued from her days of restlessness. A loving tender kiss and a warm embrace was all it took to help her put the couple months of anxious wait behind her and revive her spirits. Along with _his_ return was the heavenly relief to her torments of lonesomeness. The nights were no longer long and cold while she sought refuge in his company. The morning air was sweeter to her senses now that it was his scent, reminiscent of the crisp desert breeze, that she woke up to these few days.

When the Hokage's office appeared in her field of vision, Sakura consciously schooled into her demeanor the kind of composure that was according to her age. Straightening herself, she slowed herself to a proper pace. It wouldn't do to act like some giddy juvenile in front of the head of the village, _even if_ he was her best friend. Despite the artificial control she commanded over her mood and movements, she couldn't help but let her smile flourish across her countenance at the thought of her planned dinner that evening—if only it was something she could look forward to more than just the scarce few times every now and then…

Her lips slightly jutted, Sakura admitted guilt over the fact that Gaara was always the one shouldering the troubles to journey to Konoha, to come to _her_. Yet, not a word of complaint ever dampened their interactions. She ought to owe him reciprocity from her end. Her hand rising to rap against the door to the Hokage's office, she ran through some possibilities in her head: Maybe if she could time things right with one of Sarada's long-term missions, she could ask Naruto for a short detail to Suna…

"Enter."

Her smile widened then at the prospect, and she twisted the doorknob and pushed her way in.

"You wanted to see me, Naruto?"

Sakura wasn't given a response right away. Hands locked behind him, the blond man welcomed her with his straight and sturdy back. He squarely stood by the windows, looking into the distance. It was rare to see him a separate entity from his desk. The silence she was treated to was starting to stretch, and for a minute or two she waited respectfully. Before she could resolve herself to flag for his attention, a small shuffle of movements from the seemingly pensive male suggested he was to acknowledge her.

But with Naruto's expression hidden from her, Sakura would've never guessed what the solemn sigh that he eventually heaved was to precede:

"Whatever is going on between you and Gaara, it needs to stop."

The shocking demand, a sudden blast of sleets to the sunshine in her heart, instantly shattered the daydream that was made of all the scenarios she'd entertained in her head earlier. The curve of her lips flattened at once.

Her complexion went pallid, but it hasn't been perceived by the blond man who remained in position. In her surging panic, she almost incriminated herself right then and there, but she managed to collect herself and nip the precarious "how" question that almost rolled off her tongue.

"What do you mean?"

"Sakura, I can only manage the rumors in the office corridors for so long." Naruto whipped around then, his glowering eyes set hard on her, piercing her with disapproval. The drop of suffix of affection to her name was even more telling about his state of seriousness.

Her breathing grew constricted. She'd been cornered, and she could no longer pretend. It was fight or flight, and in a fit of defiance she defaulted to the former. "This is none of your business, Naruto."

" _Damn right it_ _'s my business when it's about my best friends!_ "

There was something in his shout that shook her to her core. In all her life, her best friend had never raised his voice like this at her. In return, stunned silence was all Sakura could give him as she teetered in her own helplessness.

"Tell me then. Tell me none of it is true. Tell me there's nothing between you and Gaara…"

"Why aren't you saying anything? Why aren't you denying it?"

He was urging, then he was pleading; still, she couldn't give him what he wanted.

"Naruto, I really don't have time for this."

"It's not fair for Sasuke."

Nothing like a shot of reality to jolt Sakura out of her moral paralysis. That name, one that almost felt like a distant memory, was a painful reminder of her current circumstances. The name of her _husband_...

Before Sakura could even become aware of her own body language, she was already coiling her fists, her nails digging into the centers of her palms. Something boiled up her throat, and she was verging on hysteria when it erupted out of her chest.

"Sasuke, Sasuke, _Sasuke_ … _Have you ever thought about how I feel?_ "

"Sakura-chan…" The ice in his blue orbs thawed.

"Don't look at me like that."

"I know it's hard with Sasuke always away, but deep down he really loves and cares about you. I'm sure of it. He's on this mission for you and Sarada."

"How would you know!"

"I just… I—" She almost wanted to sneer at his stammering for a timely answer. In a way, it was indicative, validating.

"He never writes, never checks back in. _Not even a damn card on our birthdays!_ And pray do tell, how the hell am I supposed to feel like he still cares _when he fucking never comes home?_ "

The words Sakura never thought she'd say out loud were hurled out into the open world. The person she never thought she'd turn into came roaring out; this was her, unfiltered. By the time she finished, she was positively heaving. And she felt just a little disheveled, a little drained; a little liberated...

"I never asked much from him, but even with Sarada..." Swallowing hard, she dialed back on her abrupt temper. It wasn't right to lay all her anger on someone innocent. The view of the man before her became shrouded by her bangs, as her head lowered despondently.

The voice from across that came after was quiet but clear, empathizing yet firm. "Then this is something you need to communicate with Sasuke about. Getting involved with Gaara…"

Sakura lifted her face to see Naruto's expression knotted into an appalling scowl. It stung.

"...is not the solution. _Dammit_ , I can't believe Gaara too. You two, out of all people, should know better."

"Naruto," she started, her tone imploring. What could she possibly offer at this point in time, she grimaced. "I… I'll take care of it myself. Just let me handle it, alright?"

Nothing could shield her from those dimming blue eyes of her dearest friend, the disappointment behind them was her rude awakening...

"Sorry, Sakura-chan… you know I can't."

* * *

" _Har_ _… harder…_ " She ground out with short breaths in between the robust thrusts. Her arms clung around his sweat-slicked back but wouldn't hold from the rocking that moved her along with him. To the extent her anatomy allowed, she pushed her knees back to her chest to take in the raw intensity of the sensation and more. Her eyes squeezed shut, the water that'd welled up at the corners close to spilling.

Still, it wasn't enough for her yet.

Today she needed some extra attention, some extra efforts, extra pain and pleasure, just to drown out that distinct damning voice in her head that was shouting at her, questioning her sanity…

" _Please_ _…_ " She could always trust him to accommodate her, indulge her. The next plunge, deep and powerful, reaching newer depth she didn't think possible, made her cry into his bare shoulders. A drop of tear escaped down her cheek. For a second, he slowed to soothe her with his mouth swallowing her shaky gasps. She kissed back, reassuringly. At her permission, he resumed his pace and quickly surrendered his control in his own frenzy.

The bed creaked noisily under his unrelenting movements. The burning friction in her pelvis was stretching her to her limits. The combined moans of ecstasy that were intensified with each dive, as he entered her again and again and again, were all she needed to hear to dull her mind.

He was swiftly taking her there, to the precipice, and she savored each second of this intimate journey. Then at the very top, he delivered her release. A final shove and a hit to the right spot, she crashed violently and deliciously.

Her walls clenched tight, pulsing around the part of him that was buried deep inside her. She threw her head back, as her loud unshackled cries rippled through the atmosphere. Soon joining her vocals was a string of heavy masculine grunts that reverberated at her ear side, echoing into her soul. And she felt his essence infuse within her, altering her brain chemistry about their bond.

For a moment Sakura held on, as they both gradually came down from their high, pressing the red-haired man to her and making him sink into her warmth. Their panting breaths intermixed with one another, and it was all Gaara that she breathed in. With an almost ritualistic last peck on her lips, the redhead started to lift his weight from her as her arms reluctantly freed him. Soon, he settled into his reserved space to the right of her. He sailed his eyes to the ceilings above, likely falling into his own untold thoughts.

The air in the room that cooled the perspiration on her skin also began to cool her overheated mind. Unknown to her companion in bed, the sense of gloom almost immediately replaced her postcoital bliss. In her head, that all-too-familiar voice that used to call her "Sakura-chan" so endearingly made its comeback, lashing at her:

" _Damn right it_ _'s my business when it's about my best friends!_ "

 _Naruto knows_ _…_ To her partner who hasn't taken notice of her melancholy gaze, Sakura told him with her sad eyes in silence as she turned to study his profile.

It was unhealthy that she should bear all these worries and anxieties alone, but since early on she'd often become tongue-tied at the needling apprehension that, in a moment of clarity and sensibility, Gaara's offered solution would be for them to see reason and to end this unwholesome arrangement.

Her primal brain couldn't have her detox just yet, wanting her to milk the most out of it even at this point. He was her sweetest cure and her most fatal addiction.

But…

Something in her guts told her that the days of her basking in this physical and emotional corruption was numbered. It was good now as ever to address just… _what it was_ between them.

Her eyes adjusted to the sight of him against the darkness that enveloped them both. The kanji he adorned above his left brow bone, peeking through strands of his crimson mane, stood out the most to her. Ever so gently, Sakura brushed aside the hairs on his damp forehead, making his tattoo come into plain view.

"Why are you not married yet?" At her first tentative attempt to work her way to the topic, Sakura cringed.

When it came to certain things, things like her own feelings, she couldn't be frank enough through her words to save her life. If she had been, she wouldn't have ended up where she was with her life, her marriage, and this madness.

In the beginning, her eagerness to please meant she'd readily tucked away any grievances upon the slightest questioning gaze from her spouse. It'd become a reflex over the years, a sickness even. And Sakura hated so much this aspect of herself, because it was an absolute antithesis to her proud fierceness as a ninja on the battlefield.

It might have been her imagination, but the pause that came before Gaara's reply seemed just a tad longer than what was natural for the normal flow of conversation.

"I'm not in a rush." His focus was still fixed upward; hers, intent on him. With her slim fingers, Sakura traced the red strokes that made up the character on his forehead. The meaning of the word taunted her…

But perhaps, with the man next to her, the one who'd stayed by her side all this time, things could be different and, she could… try. Yet, she worried that her subtlety might be in fact too convoluted to be picked up.

"Love… Have you found it yet?"

And that was the best she could do to probe his feelings about… _her_.

Her heartbeats unreasonably sped up, as Sakura searched for something in his ocean green eyes, hoping, _wanting_ him to give her a sign and a direction; and dared she think, a _possibility_ …—

"No."

* * *

A/N: Omg… Gaara… smh. Poor Sakura. :(

Phuu, there you go, we've come to a full circle with what the prologue had hinted for the events that'd take place. What happens next, y'all can guess?


	18. Chapter 17

A/N: Ahh, this update is way overdue! My schedule has been crazy, and it's been hard finding time to write (I'm honestly upset about my lack of a writing routine). Expect slow updates for a while, especially since I have to make time for another project for the upcoming GaaSaku Fan Fest.

Ok, enough said. Here is the chapter most of you, if not all, have been waiting for!

 **Chapter 17**

* * *

He sensed a pair of eyes bear down on him, as he recited his recommended provisions to the sponsorship agreement for the Chuunin Exams. The supposed bilateral discussion about the events' logistics in the Hokage's office was starting to devolve into a monologue from his part; silent scrutiny, the other.

Productivity wasn't on the Hokage's agenda today, Gaara surmised, as he drew his focus from the written bullet points in his hands to his equal sitting across the table. The unheralded halt in his speech didn't ruffle the Leaf's leader, nor did the fact that he'd caught the blond in the middle of his overt observation. Auroral turquoise leveled with electric blue. Naruto's stare was unapologetic, intentional.

Neither retreated from the contact, and this exchange triggered Gaara's recollection of their recent interactions. The peculiarities in Naruto's behaviors over the past couple of weeks were perceptible. Collectively, they along with the delegates from the other villages were making headlong progress in outlining the sponsorship requirements; but the process seemed to stall when it came to fleshing out individual requisites for each village, or rather Suna's in particular, as far as he was concerned. Not that he was too bothered by the pace of work they've lapsed into—which, in turn, could delay his departure from Konoha...

Nonetheless, these oddities in his counterpart's mannerisms didn't sit well with him. In their private meetings, Naruto often appeared disconnected from their discourse. Gaara was on the receiving end of either glazed looks from him or unshaken appraisals such as the one he was subjected to now.

There was something simmering in those sky-like eyes, which have evidently strayed from the notes on the table too long for Gaara to believe his own input was of any value. It was time to intervene, the Kazekage decided, if any barriers were to be cleared for their communications to be meaningful. More importantly, it was his duty as a friend to engage Naruto candidly and extend a helping hand in the likelihood that his peer might be harboring some type of stress.

The papers in his hands now lied flat against the table surface. Gaara positioned his entwined fingers before him.

"Your thoughts?"

He'd purposely made his question ambiguous, yet open-ended to cue his welcome of any contributions that might not even be related to the topic at hand.

A twitch flitted across the pensive line of Naruto's mouth. His lips tightened before they parted. Still, words didn't come ready to him as he dithered in his muteness and pivoted on accepting the implicit invitation for a honest conversation.

Naruto's face twisted. The quiet struggle behind the blond's expression told Gaara that a bit of encouragement from his end was in order. "Naruto—"

What cut him short came from across the room, knocks in a set of two distinct firm taps on the door to the Hokage's office. Their privacy was disrupted, as Naruto tore himself away from their eye contact and tilted his head toward the entrance. He answered curtly, "Yes?"

The noise of the door cracking open dragged both of their focus to the source. The instant that the unannounced visitor made his appearance was the instant that Gaara went stock-still. The tension that immediately brewed within him pulled one by one the muscles in his body taut.

The person that imposed his presence on them was one he hasn't seen for the better of a decade, one he didn't expect to see, and one he had no desire whatsoever to see. The face of the man looked weathered from travel, with its tint of tan and faint lines prematurely forming by the corners of his mouth and the lonesome eye that was unhidden by the wave of jet black hair. The visible changes that added some years to his visage did nothing to obscure his ominous identity, nor did the long cloak that camouflaged his tall figure.

There was no mistake.

"Sasuke!"

Naruto shuffled to rise from his chair. Palms pressed against the table, the blond uttered with awakened enthusiasm while the redhead remained a statue in his seat, as well as a radical contrast to his friend's warm demeanor given his frigid expression and callous gaze.

"It's great to have you back!"

The buoyant greeting from the Hokage was met with a crisp wordless nod, before the visitor set his obsidian eye on the one seated.

"Kazekage," with a monotone he acknowledged, a favor that Gaara most decidedly did not return as he assessed the foreign company in his enduring silence.

Sasuke Uchiha. He growled voicelessly. His spine painfully straight, his jaw locked hard, he fought the involuntary need to seethe with conscious control. It was without question that his initial distaste for the dark-haired man has evolved over time, swelling tenfold at the very moment; loathing for the Uchiha came natural to Gaara now more than ever. It became an instinct.

Given his current environment, however, Gaara could only bridle these impulsive feelings underneath a mask of composure, leaving no outward signs to his unrest.

He was not spared another glance after, as Sasuke rested his attention back on the Hokage. He spoke and trailed off in his sentence consciously, "Naruto, your summon..."

Naruto nodded to the reference, a small smile lighting up his features along with his instruction. "We'll talk later. Go home first. I'm sure Sakura-chan will be thrilled to see you."

What finally loosened his rigid posture was a wave of tremors that ran through his body. The urge to clench his hands made his nails scrape marks on the papers beneath. His reaction wasn't stemmed from fear, Gaara ascertained. He had nothing to fear from the man that he didn't welcome. Yet, logic dictated that he had every reason to fret from Sasuke's sudden return, precisely because of his own unsanctified relation with Sakura _Uchiha_.

The inner demons that Gaara didn't know he hosted sprung forth to perceive the dark-haired man as a threat—one that would undoubtedly uproot his routine, strip him of the sense of normalcy and comfort that he'd gotten himself used to. One that could stake his claim over these indulgences that he, in reality, held no rights to...

Gaara's eyes narrowed.

The rising dark impulses were perhaps symptoms of his vices, the selfish desires that he could no more abandon than the reality that was his loneliness even into adulthood.

There was no denying that he'd grown envious of Sasuke, whom he deemed unmerited for the blessings in his life. It was easy to breed hatred from envy, much more would be to give in to this tantalizing feeling and let it be the whole of him.

Yet his higher brain compelled him to stay grounded, to analyze, as he was trained to do in any trying situation. It was certainly trying to have to suppress the rush of malicious sentiments while maintaining an air of calm in concert. He had no right to to judge, to covet, the voice of reason in his head insisted over the subconscious demand to act on his animus against the Uchiha. In the end, his continued immobile state was the product of the clash between his rationality and his emotions for control. Given this impasse that seized his concentration, Gaara had hardly registered his surroundings until the sound of the footsteps in the direction of the exit made him aware again of his present setting. Sasuke was leaving.

He had brief seconds to take in the sight of the departing man's back before the door to the Hokage's office was open and shut. The Uchiha was gone. Yet, jade eyes seared the spot where the dark-haired man once stood long after he'd taken his leave.

From the other side of the table, a clearing of the throat finally forced those seafoam eyes back on Naruto. The Hokage was again seated in his chair, in his hands were the documents that he'd neglected during the beginning of their meeting.

"Now where were we?"

A grin played at the blond's lips, and Gaara simply stared; only now mildly mindful of his increased heart rate, as well as the irony that was now his heavy, ailing reticence versus his counterpart's reanimated countenance. There was a sheen of something stirring in his cerulean orbs, but as Naruto lowered his gaze to the texts in front of him, it'd disappeared too quickly for Gaara to try to decipher.

* * *

These days lethargy plagued her again. Everything she did she took more time, more energy, and more mental effort. It felt as though gravity's effect on her body had amplified, and there was an unliftable weight over her chest suffocating her. Her green eyes dropped to her hands that lagged in their assignment on the chopping board. Really, as lacking as her cooking skills were sometimes, it shouldn't take her more than ten minutes to dice one tomato.

She wasn't supposed to be like this; not now, when she should be rejoicing in her salvation from the loneliness-brimmed misery that would normally make her feel this way. Those rose-colored lenses given by her savior that framed her world into an idyllic scene were snatched away. Instead, she was dumped over the head with a ice cold bucket of reality.

And it was all thanks to her cruel friend.

In her bitterness, Sakura blamed him, cursing him within the privacy of her mind with all the colorful language she could conjure up. Still, she knew Naruto deserved none of her surly words. She hasn't seen him since their confrontation in his office days ago, going out of her way to avoid even the general vicinity of the administration buildings. But this episode between them has constantly loomed over her like a dark premonition, sapping away her spirit and filling her with mind-numbing dread.

There was no point now to obsess over how or why she'd been discovered. Her dirty secret was out, and that was the bottom line.

More than the curtailed conversation (if one could even call it a conversation) they parted at when she mutinously stomped out of his office without having any more of it, what rattled her was her friend's stone-hard expression that seemed to foretell his resolve for action. Just re-picturing his harsh gaze could have her wilt so easily.

What was Naruto going to do? She shuddered thinking about the possibilities, her mind refusing to dwell on the one that would cause all sorts of horror surge through her.

Finally taking notice of the tomato that was rather mangled from her distracted knife work, Sakura chewed on her lip and her face formed a grimace.

Things might have been simpler if she'd chosen the path of alcoholism instead of infidelity to slap a bandage over her problems. At least there was still a good chance that she could be functional in her life without as much anxiety and guilt chaining her down. Her former mentor, the awe-inspiring Godaime Hokage, was an emulatable example.

While she remained tight-lipped about her side of the news, Sakura was antsy to know if Naruto had similarly approached Gaara. Given the inter-village meetings that were taking place due to the preparations for the Chuunin Exams, there was no doubt that those two have interacted face-to-face. Has Naruto said anything to Gaara? During her time with the redhead, however, he hasn't indicated anything was amiss; his gestures were still as affectionate as ever...

So she stubbornly clung to the status quo, without so much as whispering a syllable to her red-haired lover about their mutual friend's knowledge of their illicit affair. Whether her silence was out of denial or stupidity, Sakura didn't know.

It was probably both, with the latter being more in the mix.

Maybe Naruto had realized it wasn't his place to get involved and decided to keep quiet? She'd like to fantasize that this was the case. This way, she was also clinging to her hope that things would just blow over in time and she could still emerge emotionally unscathed from all this mess...

At this notion, Sakura cringed with some exasperation.

This level of ignorance? It flabbergasted even herself, and she wondered just how far her denial could carry her…

Came then the announcement of a guest, a few clear knocks on the front door that snapped her out of her pensiveness and her head perked up. Speaking of the meetings for the Chuunin Exams, Gaara had mentioned that he'd stop by this evening if his appointments at the Kage tower were to wrap up early. The thought of seeing him spurred a soft smile to break free despite her gloom; so she contently wore it on her expression, choosing to be resigned to this incongruity between her moods. _He_ just had this kind of unexplained effect on her.

"I'll get it!" Half across the room, Sarada volunteered as she sprinted toward the apartment's entrance, her voice merry.

Hurriedly, Sakura scooped up the unevenly cut pieces of tomato from the chopping board and mixed them with the rest of the vegetables in the salad bowl. Wiping her hands on her apron, she proceeded to set up the dinner table, grabbing several serving spoons out of the drawers along the way.

As Sakura exited the kitchen to make her way to the dining table, she was made to pause by the audible high-pitched gasp that went through the foyer.

"What's the matter?" Curiously, Sakura slanted her body into the hallway, expecting to be greeted by a certain redhead and his infectious smile that she'd been missing.

But when her eyes darted over her daughter's form and toward the figure that occupied the door frame, she felt all the blood drain from her face. Nothing had prepared her for an appropriate reaction at the sight before her. She was instantly struck motionless. Her eyes rounded achingly; and her brain was starting to short-circuit, unable to process the situation.

As unexpected as he was familiar, the visitor appeared before them, in all his stark monochromatic features. The fine details of his visage that had become blurred in Sakura's memory over the years were now displayed anew in front her in high definition: His jawline was sharper; his chin, more pointed. His black hair had grown untamed and longer, covering more of his face than she remembered. The hollowness under his dark eye told the fatigue of his long journeys.

With a protruding hand gently rested on Sarada's head, the man soon lifted his gaze toward Sakura. The ends of his lips quirked up ever so slightly into a smile that did not warm her heart. His deep voice penetrated her hearing, one that instead chilled all of her insides:

"I'm home."

Her grip loosened, sending the utensils in her palm clattering to the floor by her feet.


	19. Chapter 18

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 18**

* * *

 _"I'm home."_

Sakura stared, her sheer disbelief incapacitating her for action. Strength seeped away from every inch of her body, and her almost limp limbs were barely supported by the conscious will not to faint on the spot. The only active force that alerted her that she was still in the present and sensing, that it wasn't some surreal dream, was her heartbeats thundering in her ears.

Nothing about her state of distress right now ought to be a natural response to the homecoming of her _husband._

The guilt that had been sitting dormant in her heart for too long was immediately cutting into her conscience, the pain stinging her enough to become aware of this anomaly in her behaviors. Before any suspicion could be raised, her brain kicked into gears to try to absorb the initial shock and direct her to receive her husband with the right gestures. The connection to her body hasn't linked up, it seemed, as her mind then screamed for her to at least say something positive. Anything!

But her mouth had gone dry, unable to produce anything coherent. "S-sa—sa—"

She was still frozen at where she stood, numbly accepting Sasuke's move to get closer.

For a second, his tall form disappeared from her eye level. It took another few seconds before the nerves of her clammy hand could feel the the combination of calloused fingers and cool metal coming into contact with her palm. Her eyes traveled down to see a gloved hand tentatively probing and goading hers to take hold of the spoons that had fallen to the ground a minute ago. Weakly taking the objects, she looked up to meet the small frown that draped over his expression.

"Are you alright?"

What sounded like concern in his voice was the beginning of her fierce hope that maybe he hasn't found out about the crimes she'd committed against him in his absence.

"S-sorry. I-I'm just surprised you are back." Sakura managed out a feeble whisper. Judging by the worryingly fast speed at which her heart pounded, however, "surprised" was a _profound understatement_.

"Papa, how long will you stay?" Sarada had bounced from the front entrance to Sasuke's side, eager to get an answer to her most interested question.

"Until the Chuunin Exams are over."

Delight illuminated the young Uchiha's face at the reply, and she began to pull her father by the arm to lead him deeper into the apartment. Her upbeat mood was on the other end of the spectrum, the extreme opposite where Sakura's emotions were currently situated.

Watching the backs of the two drifting away from her, Sakura's clutch on the utensils in her hand tightened. Her teeth gritted. She had no choice but to push her legs into a motion forward, the soles of her feet flat and heavy against the wooden floorboards as she plodded after her husband and daughter.

With Sarada guiding Sasuke to the washroom to refresh, Sakura was left to put together supper on the dining table. She paced between the kitchen and the dining room in a robotic and soulless rhythm, transporting the necessary items. But her mind has long disengaged itself from the task, and she could only rely on her muscle memory from years of routine to pilot her movements. She rested the last pair of chopsticks on the tiny porcelain holder. Dinner for three was ready. Yet... Sakura cast her eyes down into a dull gaze at the third set of plate and bowl. There was never anything unnatural about it all those other evenings. Yet this time it felt... strange, extra...

...Like the company.

Footsteps shuffled into the room, making Sakura turn her attention to the lone raven-haired girl who emerged from the hallway to the bedrooms.

"Sarada."

At her beckoning, her daughter ambled over to her by the dinner table.

There was a feeling of nausea that made her stomach twist, as Sakura thought about the things she was about to say, knowing that they would surely bring herself shame; but her instinct for self-preservation drove the words out of her lips anyway. In a hushed tone, she told her, "Let's not mention Uncle Gaara in front of your dad, alright?"

The initial quizzical look from Sarada disappeared. Her forehead puckered, following it was an unsympathetic "Why?"

"Your dad might not like that you are training with him," Sakura explained grimly, her reason as flimsy as her lie.

"Why?"

"Because," The youth's lack of willingness to cooperate was placing a strain on her already rocky mental state. No longer caring that she was turning into a serial liar in front of her own family, Sakura ground out, choosing to persuade with a testy undertone more than anything else, "I'm sure he wants to train you himself if he had the chance. He might get hurt to hear that someone else is taking that away from him. _Okay?_ "

A moment of silence overtook the mother and daughter both. Emerald orbs bore into those pools of midnight black behind red-rimmed glasses. Sakura stiffened. Her eyebrows drew together, and her lips pressed thinly at the seam. In her green eyes stirred specks of desire for the young girl to understand her plight. But half a minute more under Sarada's yet unbending gaze made the older woman's expression grow unsteady. Oh it was so wrong of her to try to involve her daughter in her cover-up! Her lower lip began to quiver with a sense of surrender that was about to take over...

"Okay, fine. I get it." Sarada finally released a sigh, shrugging and glancing sideways before meeting her mother in the eye again. Her meaningful eyes considered her for a moment longer, during which Sakura's throat constricted at the sudden hunch that perhaps her daughter knew a little more than she ever let on...

Before Sakura could linger over that troubling thought, the last member of their family had reappeared to join her and Sarada in the dining room. Having shed his large cloak, Sasuke donned a plain long-sleeve shirt and a pair of loose-fitting trousers. A simple wash had the skin of his face and neck noticeably brightened; scrubbed away were the dirt and grimes that had caked into his pores from his weary travels.

Naturally, he settled himself in a seat by the dinner table. After browsing the dishes laid before him, he looked to her and Sarada expectantly. The youngest of the three was quick to plop into a seat beside the older man, while Sakura copied, albeit rigidly, on the opposite side facing the duo. The pace of her heart quickened once again as she was in his overwhelming presence.

"You've grown since I last saw you, Sarada."

Over the clicks of chopsticks and quiet chewing, a familial conversation was initiated, one that Sakura couldn't bring herself to participate. She minced the bits of food in her mouth tediously and tastelessly. At every possible opportunity that went unnoticed by her unsuspecting husband and daughter, her nervous gaze would shoot over to the direction of the genkan.

"Papa, how do you like our new apartment?"

The possibility that Gaara might show up at the doorstep of the Uchiha residence tonight had dread pour over her like lead, contrary to usual. The clock on the wall ticked like her doomsday clock. Against those moving dials, her brain raced for cover stories, while she secretly prayed that the horrible scenario would not unfold.

"It's small. What happened to the old house?"

The small talk over their meal inevitably dissolved into buzzing white noise in Sakura's background until her yet turbulent heartbeats were all that echoed in her ears.

* * *

"Sakura."

She startled, shoulders jerked upward; and released from her a squeal she couldn't suppress in time before a wiggle of the brow was given to her from the dark-haired man that'd just walked into the kitchen. Her hand flew to her chest, as she tried to collect her nerves.

A look of questioning flashed through her husband's features, one he allowed to disappear just as quickly, as he set down by the sink plates with leftover food residue.

Sakura squeezed her lips together, stopping the apology that'd almost slipped through out of reflex; it would've been the umpteenth time otherwise in the past few days, and it was starting to be too jarring.

"Did—did you like the food?" she asked her husband instead.

"Hmn." Their eye contact broke at his noncommittal hum. Without much dawdling he then exited out of the kitchen, leaving Sakura to pick up the plates and sigh to herself quietly.

The day before yesterday, yesterday, today... She was having an impossible time reining in the monster of panic that grew and thrived inside of her at every creaking of the front door opening; her heart easily catapulted to her throat at the notion that Sasuke would come bursting through, trample her with his rage and blistering condemnation having uncovered her transgression. Everyday was like walking on eggshells; she was too jumpy, and she didn't like it.

Craning her head over her shoulder, she spied Sasuke taking up residence next to Sarada on the couch in the living room. The father and daughter were content in their silence as the show on TV was grabbing their attention.

With each day that passed by uneventfully, however, her consternation had begun to lessen to a more or less manageable degree; as did her fear that Gaara would come by at the most inopportune time. Perhaps he has learned of Sasuke's return, hence choosing to keep distance for the time being. It was plausible that those two have crossed paths by now, given that both had business at the Hokage Tower. With that likelihood came the idea that maybe Gaara would say "something" to Sasuke but one that Sakura quickly dismissed as nonsensical.

Her biggest worry was still Naruto. Though, judging by the absence of a wrathful confrontation from Sasuke, Sakura could only assume that their friend has yet to divulge her secret. _Just what was Naruto thinking?_

Her hands gripped the side of the sink, as Sakura brought her head lower pensively.

But... Naruto's inaction didn't mean she could remain at a standstill...

The hospital was her temporary escape from facing Sasuke, therefore her guilt and all her problems, but she could only spend so much time there. Her ever-so-kind colleagues had suggested for her to take time off, having gotten word about her husband's return. How could she solidly reject that offer without raising any eyebrows? So by each sundown, she'd be lingering at the doormat in front of her apartment and grappling with this seizing feeling that she was a stranger walking into a scene that she should belong but could no longer get used to.

Now that Sasuke was back for such a long length of time, she couldn't possibly just put herself on pause in her association with Gaara, holding onto a wanton wish that she could at a later date resume their routine.

A sudden gasp was set loose from her, surprising herself as if she wasn't her own person. Her fingers clamped over her mouth, as her face contorted. It was disturbing, this line of thought. Has she forgotten that her last name was _Uchiha?_ She was a wife and mother, for god's sake! Her place was there, the space right beside Sasuke and Sarada on the couch; she had no future in some fantasy she'd made believe and indulged. Shutting her eyes, she reached deep within to find that silver of hope for her marriage, the inspiration to recover what was lost.

She was... _happy_... at some point. Wasn't she? With Sasuke?

 _Yes, yes... you were!_ A voice in her head urged back.

Along with the plea cued to her were those particular moments when, Sasuke asked her to marry him; when, she found out she was going to mother the child of the man that she loved...

But these memories—marred by years of giving in to her bitterness and resentment from all those times she had to hold her daughter and reassure her that her father hasn't forgotten about them—all paled to the frighteningly intense feeling brought on by the thought of locking eyes with a certain red-haired man before their mouths followed suit. That single enthralling instance when she felt the coiling of tension in her body as his lips neared, yet chose to tease her by staying a hair's breadth away and blow warm air on her sensitive ones...

...Was one that still stole her breath away even now just by the mere recall of it—

 _No, no, no, no...!_ Mortified, Sakura shot her eyes open. Shaking her head violently, she was frantic in purging from her mind what it'd decided to conjure up. How could she be fostering these shameful thoughts even at a time like this, and with her husband and daughter only feet away from her?

Perhaps, she'd simply grown lustful. Perhaps, it was all just a physical thing that was at the root of her moral corruption. But it wouldn't explain how immensely relieved she felt that Sasuke hasn't demanded any forms of affection from her, when normally she—being so touch-starved—would've taken all kinds of initiatives to seek skinship between them. It wouldn't explain how she'd scooted all the way to the edge of the bed at night, putting as much gap as possible between herself and her sleeping husband like he was the untouchable, when in fact she was the damned. Something else inside her tried to make known that these sentiments weren't all driven by her guilt, something that gnawed at her heart and ached to be recognized...

"Papa, will you help me with the Great Fireball Jutsu tomorrow?"

Sarada's bright voice rang in her ears, making Sakura turn her head once again in the direction of the living room in time to see Sasuke's lips tilt upward. There was softness in his features as he regarded the younger Uchiha, and his blooming smile reflected his handsomeness that'd returned to its former glory after just days of rest and recuperation.

"After my meetings with the Hokage."

From her angle Sakura wasn't able to see her daughter's face at first, but when she did catch a glimpse of it as the girl shifted her posture, she was positively impacted. The vivid smile that hasn't faded from Sarada as the result of her father's answer was one that moved Sakura deeply, one that kindled her motivation.

Her daughter's happiness had been and would always be the strongest incentive for her decisions...

By the time Sakura finally tore herself away from the chores that were really just excuses to occupy her mind more than her hands, a yawning Sarada was already on her way to the bedroom and Sasuke was flipping off the TV. In this last week, the kitchen had become an immaculate space, as well as her hideaway. Short on mindless tasks to continue to busy herself with, Sakura forced herself out of hiding. Two hands rubbed together, she approached her sitting husband in the living room.

Their face-to-face still made her as uneasy as that first day when she'd gone pale at the sight of him in her entryway after so many years. Without Sarada's chirpy voice or the noise of the TV to buffer, the silence that settled between them was painfully awkward for her. When Sasuke's gaze wandered to hers, Sakura fought the urge to buckle. It was by no means an imposing look, but she'd long become a lost cause when it came to having any semblance of normal reactions in front of him.

Her eyes still evasive, she swallowed before making herself speak up her stiff statement. "I need to drop by my parents'."

A moment of pause took place before she inhaled and finished the rest of her sentence in almost a murmur, "Don't wait up for me, okay?"

Silence enveloped them both again, as she nervously waited for Sasuke's response.

"Ask about them for me." She heard him calmly say. His words caused a pinch in her heart.

Nodding slowly, Sakura complied, still unable to look at him as she told what she resolved was her last lie.

"I will."

* * *

A/N: I think it's funny how, in the Boruto anime, Sakura fainted upon seeing Sasuke when he returned home. It kinda plays into this storyline—I can't help but picture the reason that she fainted was because of her secret affair with Gaara. XD


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

It wasn't until she stood facing the door to Room 1618 that Sakura began to question herself and grew unsure. Perhaps it was all too sudden, too rushed, too premature, what she was about to do. Granted, the thought that was compelling her for action now was one that'd been occupying her mind for the better of a week, while she sat in the labs of the hospital making marginal contribution to her work. Still, a part of her wanted to contest that the amount of time she spent reaching the kind of conclusion she reached was simply not enough, and her decision could very well be a knee-jerk reaction to the change in her circumstances...

...But considering all her wrongdoing, truthfully, this couldn't have come sooner.

Riding on this line of logic, Sakura pushed herself to overcome the several stalled tries that'd stolen a good few minutes from her. The knuckles of her hand finally touched the smooth surface of oak in front of her. Yet, her mental effort couldn't make up for what she lacked in confidence in her current situation. Her uncertainty manifested in the form of softest knocks that made herself wonder if they could even be heard on the other side.

A minute longer of quietness surrounded her in the long stretch of hallway, and Sakura swayed, caught between the choices of trying again, or running away from what she was sure was going to be a difficult conversation. Before her psychology could suffer a bout of approach-avoidance conflicts, however, she picked up the faint padding of footsteps from behind the door. All of a sudden, the footsteps weren't the only things that she heard as her heart began to drum heavily in her chest, the rhythm loud enough to drown the sound of those steps in her ears. All of a sudden, she felt all but prepared. Her own legs shook, ready to make her flee.

With a click of the handle, the door started to swing just as she concluded it was too late for her to change her mind, and her heart beat even more fiercely. There was no more avoiding it, Sakura insisted upon herself. The indoor light streamed through the opening, framing the outline of the tall form that eventually materialized at the threshold between the hallway and the room. A rush of emotions flooded her in that instant, as she met eye-to-eye the man whose absence from her life this week felt strangely like years. The muscles around her eyes quivered the slightest as she took in the sight of his flaming red hair, still adorably messy as she'd last made them; and his ocean-like turquoise eyes drilling into her soul. It took a bit of her willpower to quash the part of her brain clamoring for her to just reach out and close their distance. Just one touch, it coaxed.

Her script didn't immediately come to her, as she wordlessly regarded Gaara and realized then that she really had no script for this scene. Instead, she studied him in the silence that either party has yet to break. The bare hint of surprise flitted across his features, before a line appeared over the ridge of his brows from the way his forehead wrinkled. There was subdued pensiveness in his face which told her that he was very much aware of the type of situation they were in now, so did the manner in which he waited, neither initiating nor withdrawing; seemingly wanting her to dictate the direction of where their interactions should go. And Sakura appreciated the gesture.

"Can we talk?" she said, while releasing a sigh that calmed her heart yet weighed it down.

The somber tone she didn't deliberately try to hide added sullenness to their backdrop. Those jade orbs stayed on her with a flickering of muted curiosity. Gaara nodded. He took a graceful step to the side, and his body slanted in a motion to invite her into the room.

At the walk space created for her entry, Sakura shot her eyes forward and inside then back. She breathed in and out deeply, feeling her insides rile like feathers had been ruffled. Accepting this invitation could very likely undo what she'd built herself up to tonight. And she absolutely couldn't let herself fall into the temptation for one more risky night together. Hence she steeled herself.

"Not here…"

Her assertion came out sounding unintentionally tentative, rather. During the fleeting pause in which Sakura held Gaara's contemplative gaze, she silently cursed herself for the determination that she couldn't actualize no matter how many times she'd practiced this scenario in her head. One syllable of objection from the man before her could dissolve the courage she'd worked up, she knew that and she prayed he wouldn't be so cruel to test her will now.

So she was grateful when Gaara decidedly obliged her. Plucking the room key card out of the wall slot and sliding it into the pocket of his pants, the redhead crossed the threshold and pulled close the door behind him. They now both stood in the empty hallway. Side by side, his tall built was more distinguished against her own, and his earthy and cinnamon-mixed scent hung closer to her senses.

Rising in place of her earlier uncertainty then was her nervousness. Sakura chose to concentrate on the mechanics of her walking, as she turned and led the two of them away from his hotel room.

Without question or protest Gaara followed her, falling by a step behind, however; close to but never alongside her in their silent trek. This subtle, nuanced action did not escape Sakura's awareness, but she did nothing to change it. Frowning, she could only assume that her current dour mood was at fault for this foreign way in which they now had to conduct themselves around each other.

The self-confession that she didn't know where she was going came as soon as she passed through the gates of the hotel building. She didn't have a place in mind; she just knew she needed a neutral ground for them to talk. Trusting that her feet would eventually, somehow, take her where she needed to be in her aimless meandering, she chose to drown herself in the tidal waves of thoughts that swept through her head and fed into their unbroken torturous silence.

A gust of wind blew her hair over her face, and Sakura pushed her bangs out of her eyes. She looked up to the sky. The small chance of precipitation that the weather channel forecast for tonight became more than likely, as thick dark clouds gathered overhead. If the lateness of the hour wasn't what had already ushered people home, then the low rumbles of the approaching storm were sure to deter them from being out and about on these late night streets.

Perhaps this was a sign from the heavens that even it was in disagreement with what she'd set out to do... Sakura entertained this notion wryly. But knowing she couldn't possibly justify a change of heart on the grounds of superstition, she could but quicken her pace.

When the silhouettes of elm trees began to shade the stony path she now trod, Sakura wondered if her subconscious actually possessed a twisted sense of humor to have steered her to this particular location. Not far from her, the teasingly familiar wooden bench that sat at the edge of her peripherals baited her for the memory of that fateful night when her emotions have finally spiraled out of control, when it'd all started... That seemed almost forever ago.

The heels of her sandals clacked to a stop. This was as good a destination as anywhere, Sakura ultimately resolved; suspecting she would've otherwise toured all of Konoha tonight and still without a word uttered of what had to be told.

The multicolored lights of the cityscape dazzled in the backdrop, around the clearing where she stood now on top of the Hokage Rock. But they didn't brighten her mood that was as heavy and gloomy as the foreboding clouds above. Sakura heaved a deep sigh and twisted her body around to her companion who'd also stopped and stood within an earshot from her. There was no more avoiding it, she re-emphasized to herself.

The desertedness of the space she'd led them to at this hour offered a sense of privacy and secrecy. Tough paranoia still had her head turn at every angle for recognizable faces, before Sakura finally focused on the red-haired man just to recognize that this was the end to a hard journey that was her last twenty minutes or so; and in a way, the beginning of another...

Before her, his presence felt no less towering now than when he was trailing behind her earlier in their dead quiet, making goosebumps form on the skin of her back. His patience for her that seemed infinite at this point in time was starting to grate on her nerves, because deep down she hoped that he'd speak up first, wanting the smallest sign even in this last moment to give her a reason to rethink her decision. But when he persisted in his respectful silence, she sadly acknowledged that she was only being foolish in her wishful thinking.

"Sasuke is back..." Her bare-bone statement came out in a dry voice. Unsure of what else to add, she could only hope that this would be all the explanation needed to pave the way for her point to get across.

Sakura's eyes found Gaara's. The nervousness she'd tried to suppress earlier doubled. Her stomach churned uneasily, and she was ready to flinch at his reaction to Sasuke's name—even if it were something so small such as a twitch of the face. But none came. His gaze on her was still intent, and his unchanging expression confirmed her long-held speculation that this news was not news to him after all…

Opening and closing her mouth, she let out a shaky breath in place of the line that she'd rehearsed in her head a good dozen times but could still not produce.

Eyebrows drawn together, Sakura bit down on her lower lip and stared at Gaara with weariness. Gradually but surely, a tinge of exasperation blended into her whirlpool of emotions at the moment at his continued muteness.

Why was he not saying anything? What was going through his head? Why...

She faltered.

...was he not trying to change her mind...

But what was Gaara to say, she acknowledged then, when he wasn't privy to the thoughts she had yet to divulge just as she wasn't to the inner workings of his mind?

At her own stupidity, Sakura bitterly laughed within herself. And so went away the last opportunity to validate whether what they had between them meant as much to him as to her.

"We..." Sakura started again, managing her voice just above a whisper.

The winds greeted them again as the harbinger of the storm, agitating leaves of the trees and plants around them.

These next words were stuck in her throat, caught in a tug of war between the voice of reason in her head and her strangely aching heart. Sakura tasted iron on her bottom lip that was being abused by her unmerciful biting teeth. At this rate, the day could break, and she still would not make her purpose known.

Shuttering her eyes close, Sakura remembered the family pictures that decorated the walls of her apartment; the broad smiles of her daughter in those frames were the particular reminder why she was there tonight, the reason for her to preserve her marriage and right her wrongs.

And this man in front of her, he didn't belong in her reality... and she needed to snap out of it.

Raising her resolute eyes to Gaara, Sakura willed her mouth to move. Through her constricted vocal cords, she forced out those agonizing words:

"We can't continue…"

Just like that, everything they've shared up to this point dismissed in a matter of minutes, every possible meaningful interaction made irrelevant in these three simple words...

The pressure on her chest only grew, even after the weighty sentiment was let free. Her burst of resolve dissipated almost instantly, and Sakura couldn't keep her eyes on her companion anymore to see what was to come. Downward to the ground her dull gaze fell, as did something that dropped to the pit of her stomach.

Her declaration was vague at best, but she hoped Gaara would comprehend her message. It was the kinder way to put it, as opposed to telling him straight up to never show up at her home or expect her to knock on his door again.

It was the proper ending, in her own one-sided opinion. She owed him this much, after all that he's done for her, she'd told herself; and she didn't suppose that she could just leave things between them in limbo and hope the feelings would just fizzle out on their own...

But a proper ending to what? Her inner self mocked. Whatever it was and could've been between herself and Gaara, she had yet to figure out and might never do...

When the rustling of the foliage was yet what she heard, Sakura wondered if those words of hers had indeed been drowned out by the whistling of the wind.

Contrary to her prediction, the moment of stillness between them remained only a second longer than her last thought; and what gave movement to her statue-like form was his voice:

"Is that all?"

Controlled was his expression; slow and deliberate was his tone, but there was a kind of eerie calmness in it that chilled her more than the night air on her bare arms. The manner in which he spoke to her wasn't something she was used to. It was a cutting contrast to the tenderness he'd shown her.

Gaara's question, it was the first thing she heard from him tonight, in well over a week... and might very well be the last ever, if she didn't respond appropriately...

 _No. That's not all._

She so wanted to tell him but pitifully fell short of making a sound. Memories she'd intended to lock away flashed and emotions whirled within her, causing a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't know how to put them into coherent sentences. Helpless, Sakura chose to rest her eyes on the ground instead while her brain tried to sort the thoughts that became jumbled together in her head.

But it wasn't fair that mere seconds was all he gave her before his footfalls told her that his patience with her had finally expired. Sakura jolted her head back up toward Gaara just to be met with his retreating back.

It wasn't fair at all that he was already walking away from her so steadily, so easily, his figure disappearing little by little into the spread of the endless darkness of the night.

He'd turned his back on her, a sight that she'd always dreaded.

Almost reflexively, her feet shifted in their spot, but Sakura couldn't bring herself to do more with them.

What had stopped her from stretching her arms out to pull him back into her embrace and tell him to stay all those times before, was the unspoken promise in his smiles that he'd return.

But this time…

The trail of wetness that she felt down her cheek must have been rain drizzles from the imminent downpour, surely. _Surely_ _…_

 _This time_ there was no coming back, she knew. So she hopelessly looked on, her hands trembling at her sides, and let her heart shatter to pieces.


	21. Chapter 20

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 20**

* * *

Given how she'd functioned through her days, she might very well be a robot dressed in flesh. For Sakura, these past couple of weeks had been a waking daze. Her days played out like a dull TV episode on rerun: Get up, breakfast, work, lunch, chores, dinner, more chores, sleep. She'd gone through the cycle with the punctuality and precision of a fine-tuned machine but without the heart and soul of the living.

She'd hoped that things would go back to "normal," yet everything was but. Somehow, the same exact routine she'd been practicing all these years and gotten used to now felt close to intolerable. And as much as she was unwilling to acknowledge it, Sakura knew the root cause for her spiritless state.

It was apparent that time hasn't healed her delicate feelings, wounded from many nights ago. Born from her panicked thinking was what took place on top of the Hokage Rock that one dreary night, a difficult choice that affected her in more ways than she could understand.

Regardless, it was an action that was done and over with. She'd made up her mind...

It was just a shame that her heart hasn't caught up on the same page yet.

Alone in her apartment, Sakura had found herself gravitate toward that one place for a distraction from falling into a kind of stillness that gave her anxiety instead of peace. In the kitchen, she listlessly put away clean dishes. When the last of the plates topped the neat stack in the cupboard, Sakura paused for a break in her mindless activity. Her feet backed up two steps, and she leaned her weight against the counter as though it was the necessary support to keep her form upright. Without meaning to, she breathed out a deep sigh.

There was no looking back to ending what she shouldn't have started in the first place... _It was_ _the right thing to do_. This had been the mantra she repeated and emphasized countless times in her head to get her through those moments of absolute dejection.

Nonetheless, Sakura did find an ounce of comfort in her temporary solitude, which was becoming more and more regular as her daughter tackled her field assignments with her team and her husband chose to spend most of his days at the Hokage Tower, only coming back home at nightfall. She was getting a respite from her mentally draining acts of pretending that nothing was amiss in her marriage, pretending that she was happy in front of her family, while attending to all the monotonous housework. It didn't take long for her to realize that with her every pretense, she was adding more to the sorrow that was gradually spreading inside her.

And her prescription to deal with this problem was just to keep these feelings to herself and suffer silently as she did so...

"...the right thing to do..." Sakura murmured out what her mind decided to remind her again in an effort to pull herself out of her emotional slump, letting reason overrule her emotions. Though her conscience that was less muted these days would've questioned her sincerity. Doing the "right thing"—if she was true to that high ideal—meant also coming clean about the offense to her partner that she couldn't undo. Frankly, she fell short of that.

To her, a confession was out of question. The fear of the consequences notwithstanding, she believed it'd run contrary to her intent to preserve her marriage and keep her family whole. She didn't think that her relationship with Sasuke, already shaky as she perceived it to be, could survive the blow from the truth. So she resolved to make her amends for her sins in her own way, quietly and subtly, fulfilling her role as the dutiful wife in the reestablished Uchiha Clan and moving forward without a word of grievance ever to be uttered from her.

With that settled thought, Sakura sluggishly pushed herself away from the counter and turned her attention to the next section of the cupboard to rearrange the content inside. She took hold one by one of the glasses and cups she deemed out of order and set them in perfect alignment. When her hand moved to a particular tea cup, her fingers lingered at the touch, just as her memories involuntarily resurfaced. It was the same cup _he_ used to drink out of...

Tracing the rim of the ceramic, Sakura couldn't resist the faintest smile that blossomed from her. Yet, in the next moment, the edges of her lips fell; and her chest ached.

She shouldn't be like this, she scowled. Shouldn't yield to those sweet, corrupt memories until guilt frequented her again and made her unable to breathe. Said guilt had taken a back seat and pestered her less, for the time being, in the face of this other brewing storm of emotions.

Speaking of those emotions, she absolutely refused to recognize the pain inside her that suspiciously resembled... heartbreak. Because, Sakura frowned wearily, because heartbreaks were for lovers who weren't meant to be.

And in her case, there was no way... _No way_ that she'd fallen in—

The sudden bang of the front door as it got thrown open and close made Sakura jump. Startled, she sprinted out of the kitchen to investigate who'd just entered the apartment. She stopped right by the threshold to the genkan, as her eyes landed on the raven-haired girl who kicked her sandals into a mess by the shoe cabinet. Getting into her slippers, Sarada scuffed in, passing by her and muttering a dispassionate "I'm home."

Taking in the display and not missing the knotted forehead and puffed cheeks from her daughter, Sakura asked, with slight puzzlement and wariness:

"What's wrong? I thought you were supposed to go training with your dad."

Feet stalled in their path to the living room, Sarada answered, "Papa is busy training Boruto."

She didn't have to see her daughter's face to imagine the disappointment that was etched into it. How the arrangement between Sasuke and Boruto came about, Sakura had yet to understand an explanation for it. Turning her head over her shoulder to her, Sarada said sourly, "He doesn't have time for me."

Her expression folded into a frown, as Sakura met her daughter's narrowed eyes.

Before Sakura could reassure her that wasn't the case, Sarada started, "I wish..."

Wearing a pout, she confessed to her, "I wish Gaara-ojisan were here…"

The name that Sakura thought she could forget if she never thought about it again rang in her ears, gratuitously. The invisible force of the meaning it held pierced her, breaking apart again her fragile heart that she'd been trying to piece together since the night she'd sacrificed her feelings for virtue. She recoiled at the pain that shot through her, snapping outwardly as part of her coping mechanism:

" _Sarada, don_ _'t say that!_ "

At her outburst, shock momentarily clouded over the young girl's features, before they settled into a scowl of defiance. Though not another word came from Sarada, as she jutted her chin and stomped away from Sakura toward her bedroom, leaving the older woman to her lone self by the genkan.

Her pulse came down, and her head cleared a bit, just as she took in the sight of Sarada's form getting further from her. Slumping weakly against the wall, Sakura thought to herself she really was the worst mother...

* * *

The nights felt longer and unbearable when she spent hours wrestling with her own sleeplessness. While she lied completely still on her side, the thoughts in her head tossed and turned instead. The pins and needles have started in the arm that bore her weight, but she was unwilling to turn and adjust herself into a more comfortable position on her back. Between her and the person sharing the same bed and the same cover, the physical distance was at its widest possible for her to still hang at the edge of the mattress without falling over; the emotional distance, however, perhaps much more. The other presence in her personal space had become a trigger for her increasing insomnia, as she discovered yet another irony of her situation that has truly become steeped in ironies: Before, sleep evaded her because _he was not there_. Now, sleep did not find her because _he was there_.

A quiet sigh left her through her nose, Sakura opened her eyes, no longer trying to squeeze them shut in the hope it'd force her body to accept the rest her mind didn't allow. The darkness of the room wasn't something she needed to adjust to given how her eyes had gotten used to it, fluttering open and close too often to count in these wakeful hours. Careful not to disturb the other sleeping figure in her bed, she uncovered herself from the blanket through ginger movements and slid out from her side. Sitting at the edge of the bed, Sakura waited for the numbness in her arm to wear off. She turned ever so slightly. Head over her shoulder, Sakura peered at her husband.

The spot where Sasuke slept was rightfully his, but more than ever it felt strange. These nights with him beside her were the hardest to get through when she wouldn't dare to venture into their bedroom until she was sure he'd fallen into a deep slumber, wouldn't let their skins touch in bed, and wouldn't watch him sleep while she lied awake. And the thought of physical affection with him, what was natural between husband and wife, had somehow become an off-putting thought. For once, she was grateful that Sasuke hasn't given her any attention on this front.

Sakura pursed her lips, her forehead furrowed into a frown. Was her guilt-ridden conscience really the cause behind the failure on her part to reconnect with Sasuke?

Breaking her stare and looking away, she pushed herself up from the bed. The peaceful breathing of Sasuke in the serene atmosphere sounded further and further, as she tiptoed away from their shared space and out of the bedroom.

Nowadays there was a small sense of relief whenever she avoided her husband's company that Sakura would try to admonish herself for, but in her current sleep-deprived condition she couldn't get herself to care about this unhealthy sentiment. In her silence-filled apartment, she drifted to the kitchen out of absentminded habit. Though she didn't quite make it to her destination, as she met the scene of the empty dining room on her way. The memory she still shamefully retained managed to rise, tugging at her mind as well as her feet until they slowed to a halt.

She didn't want to reminisce, shouldn't; but couldn't stop herself as her memories brought her back to happier times that'd become a secret of the past. Before she knew it, Sakura found herself occupying a seat by the dining table. Opposite of her, the chair that'd been pushed in and under the table was a mere soulless object to her until her imagination carried her away, until she could see the image of a red-haired man sitting there and smiling back at her as she shyly deposited morsels of his favorite food into his bowl with her chopsticks, until she could hear the laughter of a young girl in her ears, and until she could feel the much craved warmth of a family surrounding her...

Without volition her lips curled upward, but contrary to this, a pressure settled in her chest and a stinging in her eyes was soon felt. The unpleasant sensation jolted her out of her reverie, and all of a sudden the dark and empty dining room was all that she saw again...

Sakura grew crestfallen. That night on top of the Hokage Rock... why she was hoping for a different reaction from the person she parted from, she didn't know... Just what was _he_ doing now back in his homeland?

The questions she couldn't spare time to ponder answers to vanished almost immediately from her mental space, as she shook her head in abrupt disapproval. A little horrified, Sakura could only react to her inappropriate musing with a derisive laugh to herself. Once again, she was letting herself free falling into these moments that stood in the way of her making her supposed amends.

Oh who was she fooling? Her moral compass had been screwed up since that very first time she laid in bed with Gaara.

 _So much for her resolve, huh._

She was probably going to hell for this...

"What are you doing out here?"

Nearly jumped out of her skin, Sakura gasped loudly, unable to internalize the surprise that spiked her pulse. She spun around in her chair toward the source of the low and monotone voice.

Less than a few feet from her, Sasuke stood and watched her, gazing down at her with an unreadable expression. Her heart tried to recover its regular rhythm to no avail. Its beats drummed on, fast and unrelenting.

"I—I was... just... getting some water."

Sakura stammered and quickly cringed in her seat when she followed his gaze that swept over her hands that held an imaginary glass of water. Surely, sitting in the dining room alone in the middle of the night was not suspicious at all. Having felt being caught red-handed somehow in her lie, she was powerless about the heat that flared and burned both of her cheeks hotly. So she prayed that the dimness of the room was enough to obscure the hints of her nervousness and unease that her body so plainly put on display.

If he was dubious with her answer, he said nothing. His stare fell back on her face, as he told her, "You should be in bed."

"I'll be right there," she acquiesced softly, yet sat unmoving at where she was. When both of them fell into unified silence after was when Sakura was freshly reminded that her inability to sustain a conversation these days wasn't made better by Sasuke's lukewarm attitude to engage. Though it mattered not much since their time together was limited even after he'd come back to Konoha, with how he'd busied himself with work in and around the village.

"I think you should come now."

The voice that penetrated the short silence came out more authoritative this time. What simultaneously surprised her was his march to her side and the hand that firmly grasped around her forearm uninvited, pulling her out of her chair and toward the direction of the bedroom, where lights now glowed at its mouth.

Behind Sasuke, she staggered along. Upon reaching their room, he finally released his strong hold on her as he walked back to the unoccupied bed. Freed from his compelling force, Sakura's feet automatically became idle. By the entrance, she stared blankly at her husband as he stepped to his side of the bed.

Her hesitation was sensed. From her opposite, Sasuke paused before climbing back into bed. He brought his eye to her level. The lights from the nightstand lamp that he must have switched on earlier cast shadows on his face, darkening it mysteriously.

"Having trouble sleeping?" His voice was lower than before. There was something in his tone that she couldn't quite pick up. Under his intense scrutiny, Sakura suddenly felt very exposed.

"Yeah, a little," she mumbled, her focus straying sideways, and she hoped her curtness would get the other to leave her alone.

"In that case..." Her answer backfired on her, as Sasuke seemed to abandon the idea of just getting back to bed and backtracked his way to her. "Maybe we should take advantage of this time…"

At his suggestive words, her eyes widened at him just as he came hovering over her. Sakura shuddered immediately at the single hand that brushed against her neckline and eventually rested over the collars of her pajama top. His thumb stroked along her bare skin that peeked through the neck opening of her clothing.

This couldn't be happening, Sakura blanched. Squirming in the discomfort and foreignness of it all, she stuttered out, "Sa-Sasuke-kun, w-wait."

His mouth made contact to her jawline.

"Sasuke, s-stop."

He made a path of kisses up the side of her face. Inside the shell of her ear, his tongue gave a swirl. Her breath hitched. Somewhere and somehow in her head, the signals transmitted by her nerves from the sensation had stimulated feelings of distress and repulse. She didn't have time to understand the cause-and-effect here behind her emotional reaction, her over-alert brain was already making her keenly aware of the fingers that worked at unbuttoning her shirt and were ultimately successful at their task. When the first couple of buttons came undone, he slid his hand in through the parted fronts. Sakura panicked.

" _Don't touch me!_ " she shrieked, wringing free of his hold and elbowing him away at the arm. It was but a second before Sakura froze on her own, her wide stare matching Sasuke's to reflect that she'd startled him as well as herself with her own action.

Unlike her, her husband quickly neutralized the shock in his expression. Looking down, he regarded her with unusual composure.

"What's the matter?" he asked, "isn't this what you wanted?"

Her lips tightened, Sakura dodged his eye contact. His question was one that she inwardly repeated to herself, as she too sought an answer for it. Really, it wasn't so long ago when she would've jumped at this kind of opportunity... but now...

"I'm… I'm just not in the mood, okay? I-I had a long day at the hospital." She gave her lame excuse, again hoping that she'd turn him off. But he wouldn't abide by her private wish. Another question was tossed at her, a rather rhetorical one that she wasn't prepared for.

"Oh? Who would you be in the mood for then?"

She would've never known that the long pause that segmented this question of his and the next wasn't because he seriously wanted her to take the time to reply, but purposeful theatrics for what came out of his mouth next:

" _Gaara?_ "

It _must have_ been a mistake. _Must._ But Sakura thought she'd heard through the lips of her husband the name of the man whose never-be-told history with her was something she thought to carry with her to her grave.

Her rounded eyes snapped back to his dangerously slit one, and all rational thoughts fled her. Her disbelief and denial of the situation had her ready to feign ignorance of the subject, but she wasn't given the chance.

Briskly, Sasuke left her side to the other end of their room. After some fumbling in the closet, during which Sakura could only stare stupidly, he whipped around to re-settle his glare on her. But what captured her attention was the object that was harshly flung over and landed at her feet.

Her gaze dropped down. From the paper bag that fell over, something tumbled out and she saw a familiar color of maroon. In that moment, her heart seized up. Recognition of what it was sparked the realization of her own incredible forgetfulness: The shirt that she'd meant to return in those more innocent times had never found the way back to its owner, and now it's become incriminating evidence for something much more than simple carelessness.

"Sasuke-kun, I— " Sakura shook, struggling to put into explanation that the existence of the garment in their home was... the mere byproduct of an incident where someone had lent her a helping hand. But realistically, right now, did that distinction even matter anymore?

" _So the rumors are true. You were sleeping with that redhead bastard behind my back all this time_."

His venomous voice rang nauseatingly in her ears. She blanked, terrified, watching as his mouth moved vigorously. Lines and lines he spit out like gunfire were no longer registered in her brain as everything around her was beginning to spin...

"— _have you no sense of shame?_ " Sakura winced, finding her back colliding with the hard surface of the wall. Her awareness came to as she caught the last piece of his exploding exclamation. Rather than his rough shove, his words packed a bigger blow.

" _Just—just how desperate were you to go spread your legs for someone like him..._ "

He tightened his grip on her shoulder, pushing her hard against the wall. The painful pressure of it sharpened her alertness, and she hissed. Something inside snapped. Her horror all but dispersed, as she rolled her eyes frigidly up to Sasuke's face, challenging his wild eyes with her own.

"You can honestly tell me that you've been faithful to me all this time? While you were away?"

She retaliated, chin high with haughtiness. She knew she was projecting, and she really loathed herself at the moment. If she were to look at her own reflection in the mirror, Sakura was sure that she'd never looked so ugly.

" _Sakura._ " Sasuke's eyes narrowed more, as he warned her from trespassing a certain boundary. "You are being ridiculous."

" _Answer me._ " She bristled, while the demon in her clamored for her to keep going.

His expression stirred most briefly. Something flashed so fast across his countenance that was akin to a look of hurt, but Sakura refused to believe that was the case. Refused to explore that possibility. Because, even if she was wrong about it, she didn't care to be right anymore.

"I'm leaving."

He was so swift in all his movements, letting go of her, gathering his meager belongings from the dresser, and sidestepping her rigid form to exit the room, all while she heaved and her hard gaze was fixed at the foot of the bed indignantly.

Her feverish brain didn't cool down until a minute later. Her hands fisted at her sides, Sakura whirled around and hurried out of the room.

In the middle of the genkan, Sasuke, having already strapped on his boots, was flinging his cloak over himself. Without hesitation, he reached for the knob of the front door. The night breeze that immediately invaded the entryway from the crack of the opening door gave a rush of coldness to Sakura's skin.

His back at the ajar door against the blackness of the night all made up a sight that provoked a sickening feeling of déjà vu for Sakura. From the very beginning up until now, he was always running away. Always...

Leaving her behind.

 _Why did you take off after Sarada was born? Why don_ _'t you come home? Why you never wrote to us? Why were you not here in our lives?_

She wanted to scream all those questions at him, the ones that'd been haunting her all these years, the ones that she'd been reluctant to hear the explanations for. But they all boiled down to the one thing she'd been too afraid to find out.

"Sasuke."

His feet lingered.

"Did you... ever love me?"

It was a question too late to ask. Too irrelevant. She'd long lost her right to demand the truth from him. But even so, deep down somehow she already knew the answer...

The door was slammed shut. He was gone, becoming one with the darkness of the night that swallowed him whole.

And so he left her with his silence, but his action told her all the same.

* * *

A/N:

To **galactic fairy 9** (kudos to you for being so vigilant since the beginning!) and anyone else out there wondering WTH happened to Gaara's shirt... Ta-da?

Had planned to push this chapter out earlier, but work and family medical situations have really made it hard to write. Thank you all for being patient with my slow updates! Rest assured I'm not abandoning this story. We are getting close to the end. ;)


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: Thank you all for the abundance of lovely comments last chapter! They help me get over my lack of energy/motivation to write.

 **Chapter 21**

* * *

She was sinfully calm in the days that followed, to the point where she began to wonder if the balance of her mind had finally tipped and she was slowly going insane to be so unfeeling. It'd been a week since Sasuke left her at the doorsteps of their home stunned, broken, and without any expectation that he'd come home again. How she still was able to go about her daily routines without missing a beat, she couldn't say; but she suspected it had to do with the thick callus that eventually layered over her heart from how he'd left her empty of promises and hopes over and over again, and from how she'd gotten so jaded from all the disappointment that she'd let herself become victim to too many times to be lessons learned.

This. Was nothing new.

The abandonment and lonesomeness didn't strike her with pangs of hurt as they used to. If anything, things have simply fallen back to the norms, and there was no dramatic difference in her day-to-day resulted from his absence from her life other than... his absence from her life—again, nothing new. Though she'd be blindly stupid to think that Sasuke's departure this time was no different from all the others before.

Her husband had discovered her betrayal, an inevitable turn of events that she foolishly thought to prevent with all her might: She'd severed ties with the man whose relationship with her was the unintended effect of her own loneliness and desires. She'd vowed to herself to reform her corrupt ways, to uphold herself as the diligent and devout wife worthy of the Uchiha Clan name.

Still, these efforts, laughable as they seemed now, had ended in vain. And Sakura wondered if this all but meant that her more than ten years of marriage to Sasuke was effectively over. To draw the dot on this chapter of their life together didn't come across as a somber thought that broke her heart, which has already scarred over from years of sorrow and resentment. Strangely, yet somehow expectedly, she felt nothing; no sense of loss but that of the decade-long time she spent putting her life on hold waiting for Sasuke to walk through that front door to make this family whole again—time she now realized with bitterness that she was never going to get back.

It was too late to lay blame on any party in this failure of a relationship between two flawed individuals, but regret over her mistakes in all her existence had the million-dollar question creep into her conscious thinking in quiet moments between.

Where had things gone wrong?

The various versions of this question all wove together in her head at once—the ones that she wasn't able to confront Sasuke about, the same ones that she now had to speculate her own answers to. Believing her own faults were the symptoms of something more insidious, she thought back to the beginning... To the time she gleefully chased Sasuke down this road, despite the warning signs and ignorant of the heartaches that would make up her memories of him...

Why did he ask for her hand only to let their marriage wither without nurture? Why did he make her his only to live their lives so far apart that made her question whether their bond was any better than that of acquaintances?

Maybe... Sakura surmised, maybe Sasuke never wanted _her;_ but her _devotion_ instead.

And for what? She dared not to go down that rabbit hole of possibilities, afraid she'd emerge as someone indignant and spiteful.

In this assumption of hers, she found herself feeling fooled but not angry; enlightened yet resigned. Entirely too drained in her emotional capacity, she simply accepted the notion. It made sense to her to explain Sasuke's lack of enthusiasm toward her that persisted well into their marriage. It was just too bad that the devotion her irrational, overzealous younger self toted along into adulthood wasn't as infinite as she thought; but _worse_ now was that her devotion to Sasuke hasn't run out earlier, so she wouldn't have wasted all her time standing by what she finally acknowledged was a lost cause...

Light footsteps entered her solitary space, and Sakura perked up to the sound. Her head turned. By the door of her bedroom, Sarada stopped and stood. Wearily, she looked at her daughter, missing the strength to muster a smile to disguise her sullen mood.

A small frown and a moment of hesitation took place, before Sarada tentatively moved to her side.

"Mama."

Sakura cast a mournful, apologetic look at the girl before her; belatedly and exceedingly thankful that she wasn't home several nights ago to witness the ugly exchange between the very people she looked up to.

Having been away on a mission, Sarada had returned home late last night. Given her daughter's sharp awareness, Sakura didn't think Sasuke's glaring absence was something that'd go unnoticed. Questions weren't rapidly fired at her the night before, perhaps due to Sarada's considerate nature; but they were certain to come, just like the sun that'd risen over the horizon this morning. Today was a new day.

"Papa... left?" Her unsure eyes roamed her face, the young one spoke so softly as though her words might break her.

Lips thinned, Sakura was hardly ready to broach the subject. Not last night, not now, and maybe not ever. Having no confidence in her voice to come out normal, she gave a defeated nod.

"But he said he'd stay until the exams are over…" Glancing away and downward, Sarada muttered, her tone as dejected as her expression. Though she demanded no further explanation, for which Sakura was grateful; yet the possibility that Sarada had given up on Sasuke long before she did was a thought that sobered her.

Her stomach sank at the sight of her daughter, but more so over her own continued silence. Unlike the many times before, she could no longer offer words of reassurance; she was finally out of them, as well as what little faith she had left in Sasuke.

"Mama... Is..."

Frowning dark eyes found hers again, and Sakura swallowed consciously.

"Is Gaara-ojisan never visiting us again?"

Eyes widening a fraction at the unexpected question, Sakura felt her throat tighten. Guilt spiraled through her, as she recognized too late that she was really the true cause for every disappointment in her daughter's life, from giving her an ideal image of her father that never seemed to match with reality to making a stranger of that one person she came to admire...

Arms extended out, she gathered Sarada into an embrace. Quivering lips whispered over the top of her head, "I'm so sorry, Sarada. I've been a horrible mother to you..."

A quiet tender moment between mother and daughter didn't relieved Sakura of the invisible ailment that manifested itself then and there again. A gentle sympathetic stroke on her back from Sarada as she eventually left her to her privacy some minutes after wasn't enough to soothe her. The heaviness that grew in Sakura's chest intensified, as that all but forgotten question ricocheted off the bounds of her brain.

 _"Is Gaara-ojisan never visiting us again?_ _"_

The feathery voice of Sarada didn't soften the punch that her earlier words packed. The hurt was unintentional but no less powerful, administering shock to her numbed heart, making Sakura re-experience a kind of pain that hasn't quite ebbed away with time while thinking about the answer to the above.

She was ashamed, confessing to the long-held secret that she couldn't purge from her mind thoughts about the red-haired man from the Land of Wind. The fact that this person still occupied room in her head when she wasn't nearly done in reflecting on her relationship with Sasuke made her feel unprincipled, but... who was _she_ to talk about principles after all this time?

Considering herself already too steeped in her irredeemable ways, she began to relent to the temptation of refreshing those sweet memories in her mind that would only leave painful jabs to her heart now; the happiest ones she relived were the ones that stabbed the deepest, especially when contrasted with how _he_ had walked away from her that night on top of the Hokage Rock—without hesitation, without looking back...

All of a sudden, she felt silly, idiotic even, to be sparing thoughts and suffering heartaches over someone who probably... didn't even care...

The self-reached conclusion disenchanted her, pouring sense into her, as she put a brake on her thoughts of wanting and longing. The reminiscing would only continue to trap her in a world of hurt. She was doing this to herself, and she had the power to stop it. And the only way she knew how was to overcome her mind's lack of discipline with those repetitive physical activities that she knew all too well.

The mental push she exerted was more than that of her body. Sakura dragged her feet across the floorboards to deposit in the closet freshly laundered towels that she'd left on her bed and had been meaning to put away for the past hour or so. As she stacked the towels over one of the shelves, her eyes caught something else that halted her in her motions. Her focus fell to the corner of the closet, where a lone paper bag had been returned to the night after Sasuke took off. In there was the maroon shirt that she didn't have to see to know, folded again and neatly fit into the bottom of the bag. Briefly, Sakura wondered if she'd ever be able to give it back to its owner now; but brief was all she allowed to feel the same weakness she was trying hard to expel.

Grounding her focus to the front of her, she immediately resumed her movements. Pulling open one by one the drawers of the in-unit cabinet to inspect the organization of the contents inside, she was conscious of the extra force in her actions that was unnecessary, but she didn't want to understand it. The last of the drawers was pulled open with a loud click as the back end hit the block that prevented it from sliding out of track. A couple of items sparsely filled the inner compartment, but one snatched her attention right away. The rich red that was her favorite color captivated her, mesmerizing her. Her fingers landed on the smooth object, Sakura inhaled and exhaled deeply, as she was once again reminded how unbelievably forgetful she was.

It was her birthday present that she'd temporarily stored away and promised herself to open later; but never did amid the subsequent events that had her completely distracted...

It was her birthday present from _him_...

Adamantly, she refused to bring his name to mind, because she believed this was the first step to her detox. If she buried the name, she thought she could prove that she was better than the hopeless lovesick girl that she felt herself regress into more and more these days. But a part of her defied her will, as her hands worked at the wrapping paper slowly, tearing it apart at the taped seams.

Carefully, Sakura unraveled the mystery in her hands. Freed of its covering, a book, in mint condition, laid in her lap after she'd backed to the edge of her bed and sat. Her eyes glided over the bold texts on the dust jacket. It read _Medical Ninjutsu and Evolution: Current Applications and Future Prospects_.

She stared at it dumbly. For a second or two, her brain stayed blank until it began to dream up scenarios again to fit the narrative she could no longer deny that she still wanted to hold on to. She imagined that her birthday present was selected with the utmost thought and consideration by the other person; she imagined that _he_ 'd taken time out of his busy schedule to personally visit the bookstore and handpick the material he knew she'd find fascinating and enriching; and desperate for some humor to lift her mood, she imagined that he'd endeavored himself to the trivial task of gift-wrapping until frustration took over and his sand ripped the papers to shreds before he delegated the task to a subordinate. It was amusing enough to get a giggle out of her. A faint smile graced her lips but didn't quite reach her eyes, as the latter started to sting inexplicably.

With fondness and adoration, Sakura let her fingers trace the contours of the book. So much for trying to erase his name...

 _Gaara_ _had to care, he just had to..._ In her head, she stubbornly insisted over the rational side of her that'd told her the contrary.

When everyone else had missed it, he noticed her pain, he noticed her needs; and above all, he had noticed her passion and showed interest and support.

Her eyes stung more, and she felt the trembling of the muscles in her face. The heel of her hand swept over the corner of her eye once, then twice over the other, rubbing harshly. She sniffled, holding back the tears her pride made her swear she wouldn't shed.

One drop, two drop, the water leaked and fell treacherously, splattering onto the glossy cover of the book that didn't absorb and hide the evidence of what was clearly a broken heart that hasn't been mended.

Sakura clenched her teeth, trying to gulp down the ball of pressure that was stuck in her throat and threatened to erupt. Wiping at her cheeks again, this time almost angrily, she compelled herself not to feel this way. She was better than this, Sakura asserted, because...

— _because_ she could be an independent woman who didn't need any man in her life, if she wanted _... dammit!_

 _"This is not the life you want."_

She didn't know how or why that line of his from so long ago suddenly jumped into the fray of her mind, choosing to compete with her defiance in that very moment. She choked. Her resistance crumbled. The thin streams from her eyes became flood. Hot ferocious tears wet the white knuckles of the hands that gripped the book in her lap tight.

"What I want… what I want is…" She muttered to herself, practically whimpering, her sentence incomplete and her answer missing as racking sobs made up the rest of it.

* * *

"Sakura-chan."

She blinked, tilting her head back to the source of voice from the scenery outside of the wide windows that held her absent stares earlier. A small tight-lipped smile to convey a quick apology, Sakura returned her attention to the blond man whose pinched eyebrows began to relax when their eyes met.

Behind his work desk, the Hokage said, "I got your application for a full-time position at the hospital."

She nodded, waiting for him to continue, more attentive now than she was before.

It wasn't long before Naruto's expression brightened, his lips split into a toothy grin as he added, "You know you didn't have to apply. The job is yours anytime you want!"

At the flattering compliment showered on her by the leader of the village, her cheeks started to warm. Sakura clasped her hands together over her front. Her smile was yet a conservative one. "I appreciate it, but I have to respect the system in place. I don't want people to think nepotism was involved."

" _Please._ We all know you are more than qualified." Easily shrugging off her concern, he exaggerated his tone before changing it over to a firm and authoritative one, "In any event, consider your request approved."

"Thank you, Naruto." Grateful, Sakura finally allowed her smile to broaden, matching her reaction to the delight in the man's face.

It was the first of many steps to her healing process; to move forward—her newest resolution. Sarada was older and more independent. She could make this leap to commit herself more to her passions for medical practice and research. She was done having her life on pause, done sacrificing her aspirations, all in vain for a person who was content keeping her in the backseat while he freely pursued his own agenda without any respect or consideration for equal roles in their partnership.

"Also..." Naruto drawled, as the cheer in his eyes diminished. The frown that soon inched its way across his countenance was her hint to prepare herself for something unpleasant to come her way, though she already had a good guess of what it would be. The bit of rigidity in his voice made it clear his discomfort in the next line of business he was to touch upon:

"I reviewed your divorce papers…"

To this, Sakura offered but a simple quiet nod, her expression neutral and showing no signs of the weight of her friend's words on her.

"Sakura-chan, are you sure about this?"

It was only when Naruto still wore his torn expression—as though on her behalf—that she felt a bit of guilt trickle through her for her outward apathy. She supposed that she ought to be more affected, but she'd come to terms that a divorce was the due course for her marriage to Sasuke. They were each, in their own way, chipping away at their relationship to the point where it couldn't be sustained anymore. He'd wronged her, and she'd wronged him. There was no reason to keep hurting each other...

It was just a pity she couldn't bring herself to walk away earlier, because Sasuke was all she knew. And frankly, growing old alone could be a scary thought. But someone had given her a reason, a non-justifiable one—but a reason, nonetheless, for her to leave a marriage that was slowly but surely breaking apart from within. That someone had also once told her to move beyond the past and work toward the future.

Her path now was forward, not backward. If Sasuke didn't want to be in her and their daughter's lives, then she was determined to live like it.

"Positive."

Naruto thinned his lips in a momentary pause as if to digest her one-word answer before asking, "What about Sarada?"

"I'm working on it..."

It wasn't going to be an easy conversation, Sakura admitted. Her personal reluctance has stopped all those practiced speeches from leaving her head space. But her days of avoiding the subject matter and hiding her truest feelings had to come to an end, and now that she's come to that bridge, she must cross it.

Though, given how it felt like Sasuke has already divorced himself from them physically and emotionally; the process of divorce, really, was just a formality. And she was half-feeling that her daughter, who shared the same experiences when it came to her absent father, might share the same sentiment.

"And Sasuke?"

That name, when spoken aloud these days, easily made Sakura uncomfortable. It was a change, more so emotionally, she supposed she'd have to get accustomed to. Stiffly, she replied, "I will let him know."

"I still think you should try to work things out with him."

The blond man was stubborn in his belief, and Sakura expected nothing less from a mutual friend since childhood. With a resigned sigh, she claimed, "Naruto, with you, it's always Sasuke."

"That's not true." He stretched out both arms, palms open toward her, as he made his defense. "I care about you too! I want the best for the both of you."

She had no intention to argue with him. She brought herself to the windows. Her eyes took in the beauty of the peaceful village under the embrace of the impossibly blue sky. She confessed, instead, "We are not right for each other. I can't believe it took me this long to realize."

"You've loved him since we were little." His voice carried over, the stubbornness in it losing its edge to bewilderment.

Her eyes didn't stray, she tried to make patterns out of the white clouds hanging high and above outside. "It's always been one-sided. A marriage without equal commitment from both partners cannot flourish."

"I hate to be blunt. Sakura-chan, but you—."

"I know I've made my mistakes." She spun around to face him. Like her voice, her look on him was hard before it was soft. Then immediately, she glanced away, almost like a petulant child, staring into the distance once more.

One mistake after another, she thought she'd made too many of them to count—But perhaps the biggest mistake of her life was that she never cared to stop and think about the difference between love and obsession back then, when she went through lengths to be by Sasuke's side.

"I'm really stupid, aren't I? I mean, what kind of idiot would marry a guy even after he's called her 'annoying' so many times?" She still wasn't looking at him when she laughed a humorless laugh.

"Sakura-chan…"

Her gaze remained on the horizon, where white, blue, and green blended together in a perfect painting. Her mind began to wander. She stared long and hard, as though she'd be able to see the outline of something, _someone_ at the far end of the picture... After all, _they_ were sharing the same sky, weren't they?

To that person whose presence felt closer in her fond memories than in reality now, she couldn't blame him for anything, didn't want to. Bad habits were hard to get rid of. And the only thing she came to regret was the way she went about doing things; otherwise, she could've preserved a friendship.

For _him_ , she worried. And there was no easy switch she could turn off for this tendency of hers.

Have those vicious rumors that plagued her now reached beyond the borders and landed _him_ in a bad place? Have they cost _him_ more than his reputation?

"But…" Pensively, she spoke, her fingers curled inward as they rested atop the windowsill. "...The one who shouldn't have to suffer any consequences of my actions is Gaara..."

It was a private thought she could've kept to herself; but the reason she wondered out loud sat not far from her, blinking his blue eyes at her in a confused manner that made her think she really was never effective in her subtlety...

It was her way of asking, if there was a chance that he's heard from him...

 _How is he doing?_


	23. Chapter 22

A/N at the end.

 **Chapter 22**

* * *

" _Out._ " It was the way in which the Jounin sputtered and hastily vacated himself from his office that made him vaguely aware of the thorns in his tone. Aside from his biting response at a subordinate who was merely there for a routine job, the fact that Gaara deeply relished every opportunity to remain a recluse as of late was also one of the many signs to the aberration in his mood. Consciously, though, he avoided dissecting and making sense of his condition like it was a mental land mine. To him, dwelling on the issue _was_ acknowledgment, and he'd rather not admit to the existence of these unusual symptoms as though it'd mean defeat.

A whistle rang out and robbed him of his temporary peace and quiet, followed by a string of words that made his focus aim sharply at his right-hand side.

"Who pissed you off in Konoha?"

Spoken with true liberty, the man with cropped brown hair continued to relax his back against the wall as he stood by a large potted Dracaena plant, completely immune to the atmosphere that was contaminated with tension and completely insensitive to the desire of his sibling to be left alone.

At Kankuro, Gaara furled his brows, stony eyes carving into his form.

"Woah, easy on the death glare," his older brother let out a half chuckle, while moving himself away from the wall and unfolding his arms to wave in his defense. But the playfulness in his manner soon dissipated, as he showed his interest as a concerned party. "You've been hella cranky since you got back from Konoha. Something happened there?"

He didn't like at all that Kankuro formed correlation between his fluctuating emotional state and the conclusion of his trip. But try as he might in his own denial, he knew very well the source for his agitation and frustration. So begrudgingly and quietly, Gaara gave him credit for his intuitiveness, but it was a recognition he attached no voice to under the present circumstance.

Wordless stares were exchanged for a minute, as Gaara continued to zip his lips together, tight enough for anyone to suspect that they might have been sewn shut. Taking his stiff silence as sufficient confirmation of his suspicion, his older brother went on to offer his available counsel, "Wanna talk about it?"

He almost wished that his older sibling hadn't so conveniently decided to keep his face free of paint markings today, because the sincerity that was instead drawn all over Kankuro's visage was made plain and visible. It was that genuineness in his eyes that reminded Gaara of their brotherly bond and their obligations toward each other as family; it compelled him to try to venture into a territory that has been left uncharted for so long even as he grew older...

Belatedly, he realized his character fault that was his double standard to his much valued and advocated honesty between him and his associates. When it came to sharing his own private thoughts and personal feelings, it wasn't always a two-way street.

Gaara shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He kept to his guarded silence for a moment more, a show of his deficit in practice to be human about his struggling emotions. His eyes temporarily averted the standing man—flicking from left to right in his otherwise empty office and looking for an alternative, an outlet—before they resettled on Kankuro. Seeing the brown-haired man's yet patient, yet encouraging expression, he figured the coping mechanism he had in his youth would not do. But the final push to accept his brother's offer came from a particular beast of gloom that'd been stirring within him since the day he last left Konoha; its need to be soothed was strong enough to bend the recalcitrant in him and force his locked jaws loosen...

 _That woman_ was affecting him more than he thought.

"Suppose," When his mouth opened, his voice came out gruff and slow. In his head, Gaara formulated his delivery as he spoke. Unlike his experience in navigating political rhetoric, his training in unpacking the inner issues that ailed him and molding them into words was... pathetically inadequate. So his first instinct was to tread with caution, and he amended, "One—a friend..."

"Uh-huh." Kankuro swiftly acknowledged, in a tone noteworthy for its eagerness. Opposite of him, Gaara's frown grew, as did a murmur of doubt inside him that said this was likely a bad idea.

"A friend was in a liaison." Gaara presented his hypothetical that was trimmed down to the bare minimum. It was under this veil of anonymity that he could gain some comfort to talk about his underlying problem.

Kankuro blinked, blurting out his words too quickly to remember the need for tact. "With a woman?" He had to double check.

A muscle in his eye twitched. Gaara clarified for his confidant while trying to keep his voice from rising. "Yes." He waited, then absent of any more reactions from Kankuro, forged on.

"And suppose, it was physical in nature..."

"Physical?" The older man cocked a brow. "Like you mean just fucking around?"

The crude word choice was grating on his ears. His gaze bore into the middle child of the family, with distaste, which the latter braced without any perceived effect. Kankuro simply shrugged, in a gesture telling him that at their age neither of them should feel juvenile around this type of language.

What he had with _Sakura_ was more refined than that, Gaara pondered. It was unlike those fleeting superficial contacts he'd experimented with early on—having been indoctrinated at a more receptive point in his adolescence to his brother's belief that repression would lead to later problems in life.

Nonetheless, he affirmed, in his own fashion. "There was intimacy involved."

He'd dedicated the next pause in his account to more unabashed interjections, but none came again. The brief quiet moment was then left for him to phrase carefully that ultimate question, the one that made him spend his days and nights in perpetual restlessness.

On one exhale, he freed it, and he felt the vulnerability he couldn't control in his voice that made his sentence end barely louder than whisper:

"Why would one party experience distress once the relation discontinued?"

A small frown of puzzlement appeared beneath his brows, as Kankuro concentrated his undivided attention on him. "What kind of distress?"

Closing his eyes, Gaara dived deep within to try to pinpoint those feelings and articulate the intangible.

"Anger, a sense of betrayal," he swallowed and ground out, simultaneously feeling the labels he used triggering a build-up inside him. Then there were those dull aches that rolled through his body in waves from wounds that he couldn't see or comprehend.

"Hurt…" faintly, he aired out, feeling an ounce of strength, as well as pride, leaving him.

From the other side, those dark orbs considered him carefully. With pensive slowness, his confidant followed up, "Alright. Let me ask this: Who initiated this relationship?"

His own eyes came down in an unsure blink, unsure of the direction in which the older man guided their exchange. Still, for a moment, he thought of the answer to his question.

True, _she_ might have been the one to spark the fuse, but it was _he_ who fanned the fire.

"—the friend."

"And was there a clear understanding between the two people what kind of relationship it was?"

"Uncertain."

Humming in thought, his brother rubbed his chin and finally gave his verdict, "Well... I'd say you—"

A pointed look was shot his way, warningly; and Kankuro corrected himself, albeit with a roll of eyes and unsparing emphasis in his tone, as he finished up the rest of his diagnosis, " _The friend_ caught feelings."

"Explain."

"I mean, it's hard to stay detached..." Kankuro began to scratch the back of his head, as he supplied his knowledge on the topic, "there has to be basic physical attraction to start a relationship, even casual ones, right? The tricky part is that the attraction feeds into this reward system we humans are physiologically wired for—I read about it before. It's all about the brain chemicals, man. The more we have something that makes us feel good, the more we become dependent on and attached to it."

"And if a line is not drawn, it's only inevitable when one person develops a deeper emotional bond with the other, if not both—I guess even more, if there's also some compatibility in personalities, temperament, values, and whatnot."

Word by word, his mind digested his sibling's explanation. It all but sounded like an addiction that he'd fallen captive to, a case of overdose that'd severed logic from his brain. So more than anything he was desperate for a cure to his afflictions. "What is the remedy?"

"One can do two things: Just let it go and let time heal all things. Or..."

Candidly, the brown-haired man advised him, his gaze set on him in an elongated eye contact, "Take a chance and let the other person know how you really feel about her, and maybe there's an opportunity to start something meaningful."

The second-person pronoun in his brother's speech filtered through this time without so much an objection in the form of a scowl or verbal warning. The barbaric urges he'd left behind him as with his childhood sprang up and rattled him from within, grudging against adopting either suggestion.

So killing something was not an option?

The first solution was in order, Gaara concluded sourly, since the second was eliminated by the one key detail he'd left out on purpose: Sakura _Uchiha_ was married, and she'd made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him...

"Hey."

He hasn't realized he'd lost focus of his companion until he found sight of Kankuro again at the vibration of his voice.

"If you need some _distractions_ , let me know."

His brother's direct address at him, completely intentional now, provoked him less than what he'd actually insinuated. A look of pure disgust was all he threw across the room. Then he was bending down to reach for the gourd resting by the leg of his desk. With a need for release, he rose out of his seat and headed for the door.

Brushing past a nonplussed-looking Kankuro on his way, Gaara briskly departed his office and set out for the sandy dunes beyond the border control.

* * *

His hands thrust forward. Pyramids of sand erupted from the rumbling earth. At the crossing of his arms, the masses crashed into one another on command and quaked the ground beneath his feet. Minuscule grains filled the hot air he vigorously panted in. Perspiration stuck to his skin, Gaara looked on, to the edge of the desert where the sea of cloudless blue began.

Finally. It'd dawned on him.

Slowly and surely it crept up on him, flooding him with a sense of normalcy that nothing in his life had provided thus far, not his job, not his siblings, not his people—those nights at the dinner table with Sakura and Sarada, he felt like he belonged.

 _A family, a wife, a daughter_ … This whole notion hadn't come across him, but the more he indulged the more he grew accustomed.

He'd become emotionally invested. He _was_ emotionally invested.

It was finally apparent to him that things couldn't have unfolded otherwise. He was never meant for a conventional storybook romance. It was long-time coming, when he'd made himself a guest of the Uchiha household, when he'd entered _her_ home with an unguarded heart. He'd approached _her_ with familiarity and ease that came as the basis of a friendship; and none of the kind of apprehension and awkwardness he had attempting at a partnership with his ex-fiancée, a mere stranger of the opposite sex.

Because, given Sakura's status, he'd foolishly assumed no possibility.

After all, he didn't think he'd get tangled up with a married woman; and he didn't think that she could worm her way into his exposed heart with her kindness and charms, with how she'd light up in their conversations about their respective passions and interests, with those rosy-cheeked smiles that warmed all the veins inside his body, as well as her gentle and delicate gestures that touched the part of him hungered for closeness and companionship the more he sampled it.

Despite the baggage he hasn't quite let go since his youth, he'd learned that it was possible for a stoic person like him to develop attachment to someone that went beyond friendly ties, which was... favorable news. The bad news? It was over before it was even allowed to start.

The feelings he'd procrastinated to pick apart and analyze, the sentiments he'd failed to act upon had all doomed him to this ending, to his emotional demise.

The things he longed for increasingly with each trip to a home far away from home were... not his to take. He was a moron to entertain the idea, thinking he deserved it, playing house with someone else's family...

He was. A complete, indisputable fool.

With gnashed teeth, Gaara pushed his open palms upward into the air, conjuring colossal waves of sand that roared forth and leveled every sandy peak in their paths. The winds howled at his ear side, along with the voices from within that made mockery of him.

All of a sudden he felt himself thrown back into the dark empty past, where he was deprived of that simple dream of his.

Now that Sasuke was back, there was no need for him, and he'd been tossed away like a used tool. That night on top of the Hokage Monument, after passing days in the unknown and resisting unsettling mental images of Sakura with another man (but truly _he_ was the _other man_ ); she'd dismissed him, dismissed everything they shared, in a matter of minutes. Knife-like were her words that cut him open until he bled unexplained rage, and he was gripped with his own stark speculation:

A _substitute_ —was that what he was to her _all this damn time_?

The way she was so unkind in her silence to him, when he'd quietly implored her for an explanation, a justification, made him turn on his heels without a second of hesitation. If she'd made up her decision about him, he wasn't the type to beg for reconsideration. In muted fury, he chose to just walk away, because he'd matured enough to curb back his impulses to lash out.

The sands swirled around him, whipping his hair into his face violently; but he kept his gaze, hard and indignant, at the horizon.

From the good memories grew that sense of betrayal he'd felt and related to Kankuro. These wakeful nights, he could still hear her soft voice in the dark whispering to him intimate things, even as his tired and bleary eyes found her no longer next to him. She was always so guarded with her words and emotions when it came to the Uchiha; her actions spoke for her instead. On one occasion, one of those many evenings when they traded body warmth, she'd asked him questions as she caressed him; questions he didn't understand at the time came one after another until they led to her questioning her own relationship with her absent partner. That was perhaps the most transparent she'd been with voicing her doubts about her marriage. So why?

Why did she still choose Sasuke over him?

The thought he didn't consciously control startled him, and Gaara stilled, huffing and puffing as the arid desert heat burned at his lungs. He wanted Sakura to choose... _him_?

 _"Love... Have you found it yet?"_

He didn't know why those words, her words, surfaced in his head. For him, it didn't compute then just like it didn't now, and he'd said no to her...

He had said. _No._

Suddenly, he felt the fatigue, the soreness in his muscles from the overexertion of his training. He felt drained, physically and mentally. Before him, the landscape had transformed, and his heavy eyes scanned the barren land.

 _"Love... Have you found it yet?"_

The same question repeated louder and louder in his head, and he felt the same distinct aches from _that damn thing_ again throbbing in his chest.

Surely this isn't…

In rivulets, sweat trickled down from his forehead, over the old scar that hurt, into his eyes; and he couldn't blink away the sting.

 _Surely_ _…_

Something irritated his cornea and scratched his parched throat then... Something threatened to run down the side of his face at the expense of his dignity…

"That was incredible…"

Gaara cursed himself. Even with Sakura thousands of miles away, the thought of her distracted him dangerously too long to fail to notice the chakra signature of another presence. Instantly on guard to the foreign voice, he spun around, his protective sand circling him at waist-level.

But the sand glass symbol on the small one's headband indicated that he was one of their own.

"Kazekage-sama, will you teach me?" the boy asked, moving his gaze from the stretch of flattened land before them and upward to him.

The determination in his dark mossy eyes reminded him of the Genin he'd mentored back in Konoha. And briefly, he wondered if the young kunoichi from Leaf had made improvements to her usage of her Sharingan, but he quickly rid his mind of the pitifully irrelevant thought.

Gaara stared back at him, mindful of the coils of black sand that danced about the boy erratically. "What's your name?"

"Shinki."

* * *

A/N: Sooo yeah I changed up how Gaara and Shinki met, which in the series felt a little random to me, like in a "let's-slap-a-kid-on-him-cuz-everyone-else-is-married-with-kids" sorta way.

To my Guest/Anon reviewer that let me know there may be followers of my work who don't have accounts, I'm encouraged by your support and I thank you for your lovely comment! And to my other Guest/Anon reviewer who commented on Sakura's character last chapter, I appreciate your feedback and will be more thoughtful when doing character studies as I progress in my writing.

Happy 2020 to you all!


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